Infiltration
by bigfatgoth
Summary: International Rescue have gone to great lengths to maintain the secrecy of their operation from outsiders. But could an unknown force use their technology for their own terrible ends?
1. Thunderbird 5

Upgrade

Chapter 1

John woke as the vibrating pad under his pillow alerted him to the proximity alarm. He jumped up and headed for his console. Another alarm went off. John looked at his viewer, thinking there must be space debris. This was not an unusual occurrence, and Thunderbird 5 was well equipped with plasma-cored deflectors to deal with it. But there was nothing on the screen.

"That's odd," said John. He ran several diagnostics but could find nothing wrong with the system. A third alarm sounded. It was as if something was coming towards the satellite from all sides. John reached for his microphone.  
"Base from Thunderbird 5." All he got was static. He was still trying to call base when the station became bathed in a pale blue light.

"What the hell?" John went to the windows. There was a wide beam of light heading toward Thunderbird 5. As it approached, the light became more intense, and burned John's eyes. He shut them tightly. The satellite began to shudder as it came closer, and soon John was being shaken from the floor. He sensed an impending impact, and hit the deck. The collision threw him to the ceiling, and he was unconscious when he hit the ground.

John groaned as he woke. The emergency lights were on, bathing the station in a dim glow. John rubbed his eyes to try and adjust to the low contrast. He was lying in a large pool of blood. He felt the back of his head, and found a deep gash. Not feeling able to stand, he crawled along the ground and hauled himself up to the console. As he leaned back, he felt a stabbing pain in his neck.

"Base from Thunderbird 5!" He said urgently. There was no answer, and dropped down to the underside of the machine to see smoke coming from the service hatch. He prised it off with his thin fingers. More smoke erupted from the hole, making John cough. He could just see flames inside. The fire extinguisher was on the top of the console and John had to drag himself up again. Now his head was hurting him very badly, and his vision was losing clarity. He took the extinguisher and used it on the fire. It was quickly put out, but the resulting plume of carbon dioxide choked John and he crawled to the other side of the room to recover. When he had his breath back, he surveyed the rest of the room and found a great deal of the equipment unserviceable. Thankfully life support and gravity were still functioning. John was slightly relieved. He could not call base, but he knew that they would miss him if he did not call in, and so had only to wait for rescue. But with blood now pouring from the back of his head, and the tremendous pain between his temples, he wondered if he could hold out long enough. He crawled into the bathroom.

"Thunderbird 5 from base. Thunderbird 5 from base." Jeff Tracy stared intently at the portrait of John on the wall of the Tracy Island lounge.

"Still no luck, Father?" said Scott, peering around the door.

"No, Scott. He said he was tired and getting an early night. He worked really hard while we were putting out that bushfire."

"Yeah. He was coordinating for almost 3 solid days."

"I thought he might just be sleeping. But we've been out of contact for 18 hours. Something could be wrong. You'd better get up there, Scott."  
"Sure thing, Father. I'll get Alan."

Scott collected Alan from the swimming pool, and they returned to the lounge to sit on the sofa that would take them to Thunderbird 3. Jeff flicked the switch, and they were away.

"What are you wearing?" said Scott to Alan, in transit.

"What? It was the first thing I could find!" replied Alan. He was wearing Virgil's running jumpsuit, emblazoned with a large 'V.'

"He's going to kill you, you know." snickered Scott.

"Yeah. I know." said Alan, looking down at his feet.

Alan flew Thunderbird 3 to Thunderbird 5 perfectly, although Scott could not resist the urge to backseat drive. They failed to raise John on any frequency during their journey, and had become increasingly worried. John had really always been the Tracy brother to worry about. Scott responded to worry with vigilant concentration; Alan responded by joking around. They both understood the other's way of dealing with things.

Thunderbird 5 was eerily dark when they entered. They proceeded with caution, and edged slowly through the airlock into the main communications room.

"What the hell happened to this place?" said Alan, looking at the damage.

"John?" called Scott. "John?"

There was no response.

"John," called Alan. "We brought your whiskey and hookers!"

"Ssh!" Scott admonished him. "John? There!"

They could both hear whimpering coming from the crew quarters. They moved around the bulkhead towards the source of the sound. As they came closer, Scott drew his sidearm. Alan looked at him; they understood each other. Perhaps there were others on the station.

Scott immediately sheathed his weapon when he caught sight of John. He was huddled in the corner of the bathroom, with a blood-soaked blanket pulled around his shoulders. He was shaking uncontrollably and his teeth were chattering.

"John? What's wrong?" Scott asked, and put a hand on John's neck. John shrieked in pain, and held his arm to him. Scott noticed a deep, circular wound in his neck, and frowned. He knelt beside John, and placed his hand on his pale, sweaty forehead.

"You have a fever, John. You're sick." He said, softly. As he looked more closely at his brother, Scott saw that his teeth were pink; tinged with blood.

"Have you been throwing up, John?" he asked. John nodded, and Scott sighed. When John had chemotherapy when he was 7, he had vomited so much that the stomach acid had scarred his throat. He must have aggravated it. The saliva on his lips turned bloody and dripped down John's chin. Scott wiped it with his handkerchief.

"Hey, you're okay kiddo." Scott smiled. Then he looked around and nodded to Alan. Alan understood Scott's expression again, and he went to contact base.

"System's down, Scott."

"Huh?"

"Comms have blown, and one of the solar panels is gone."  
"Gone?"

"Yeah, it's just not there. Must've been ripped right off."  
"Can you fix it?"

"I'll bring back up online, and I can fix comms. I'm sure there's a spare panel round here somewhere. Won't take long. You can go." Alan went about his work.

"John, what happened?" Scott asked. John did not answer. Scott smiled at him. "Let me see your head, buddy."

John winced as Scott poked at his head wound, and covered it with a field dressing.

"Okay, buddy," said Scott. "I'll take you home. Come on." He was going to help John walk to Thunderbird 5, but when he stood him up he was so unsteady that Scott had to carry him. John was slight and only weighed 140 pounds, so Scott had little difficulty lifting him.

"No more cake for you, Johnny boy!" joked Scott.

As Scott carried John into the communications room, Alan appeared from the airlock. He had changed into his International Rescue uniform.

"I called Dad. They're waiting for you, with the sickroom ready."

"Thanks, Alan."

"I left Virgil's jumpsuit in the lounge. Just slip it into the wash, will you? He'll never know."

Scott smiled in agreement and took John aboard Thunderbird 3. He laid John down on a couch, and covered him with his blanket. He was still shivering, and his eyes seemed glazed. His fever was raging. Scott stroked his hair and felt his wrist for a pulse. It was racing. Scott paused for a moment, wondering whether he should stay with john and try to help him, or just go back to the island as fast as he could. He decided on the latter, and went in the elevator up to the cockpit. He set off for home, and all the way he talked to John through the communication system. John gave no reply.


	2. Goodbye, John

Chapter 2

When Thunderbird 3 touched down, Jeff and Brains were waiting with a stretcher. Scott met them in the T3 lounge. Both men were hunched over John.

"Come on, talk to me, John!" Jeff was squeezing his son's earlobe to try and get a reaction. He got none. John was no longer shivering, just lying on the couch.

Brains was searching for a pulse. He found one in John's neck, but his blood pressure was so low it was almost undetectable.

"We'd better get him to the sickroom, Mr. Tracy!" stammered Brains, urgently. Without pause Scott and Jeff placed John on the stretcher, and rushed him to the sickroom, where the household had gathered.

Everyone stood back with bated breath to allow Brains to work. Tin-Tin was helping him set up equipment, and Jeff stood near John's head with his fingertips pressed together.  
Brains connected John to a heart monitor. As soon as he switched it on, it was clear to everyone that it was very fast. His blood pressure and respiration were low. Brains put an oxygen mask over his face, and looked at the monitors with great concentration. He carefully placed a line in John's left arm, finding it very difficult to get a vein, and Tin-Tin hooked up a drip. John's fever was high, but he had stopped sweating.

"He needs to be intubated."

"Okay." Said Jeff. Brains had done a couple of intubations before, but was still inexperienced, and not a doctor. He looked to Jeff for reassurance, and received a warm smile. He placed the tube expertly, and fixed it to the oxygen support machine.

"He needs to get to hospital, Mr. Tracy."

"Right!" Jeff was about to send one of the boys to contact Dr. Featherstone, when Brains interrupted him.

"He's in VF."

"What?" asked Jeff. Before Brains could answer him, there was another, terrible development.

"Cardiac arrest!" Brains did not stutter, and he climbed up so that his feet were on the lowered bed rails, and began pressing on John's chest, counting as he did so.  
Scott rushed to help him. They had trained for such a situation, and performed CPR at countless rescues, but Scott had never thought that they would have to use it in anger on one of their own. He grabbed an ambu-bag from one of the cupboards, and began to bag John, looking at Brains to get the right rhythm.

Brains nodded to Virgil. He came and took over, and Brains got the trolley with the defibrillator and brought it over. He looked at Jeff, and he nodded. There was fear and panic in the eyes of both men.

Brains cut through John's shirt and placed the paddles on his chest. He pressed a button on the machine. It's cold, mechanical voice spoke.

"Charging." The machine emitted a high pitched whistle, like a camera flash, as it built up it's charge. "Clear!" shouted the machine. Everyone backed off, and the machine jolted John with an electric shock.

"Still in VF!" Brains' voice trembled. Virgil overtook heart massage briefly as Brains reset the machine. He placed the paddles on John's chest again.

"Charging."

"Clear!" Again everyone stood clear.

"Still VF!" squeaked Brains. Virgil took over again, and Brains attended to the machine. But before he could do so, the hear monitor tone changed. Brains looked at the readout.

"Asystole!" he cried.

"Jesus!" yelled Scott, still bagging.

"Lidocaine!" shouted Brains, and Tin-Tin fumbled around in the emergency box for it. She drew some into a syringe, and Brains injected in into the port in John's hand. He used the machine to shock John again, to no avail. He administered more lidocaine, and closed his eyes, willing John's heart to start again. Jeff squeezed John's hand, and talked to him softly.

"Come on, John. Come back to us, Son." He stroked his hair.

Gordon rose and came to relieve Virgil, who was dripping with sweat and completely exhausted.

"I can do it!" snapped Virgil.

"Virgil, you've been going for half an hour; you're spent. You'll help your brother more letting Gordon take over," said Jeff.

Virgil looked affectionately at his father, then Gordon, and conceded. Tin-Tin stepped up and replaced Scott with the ambu-bag. Another 15 minutes went by, and John was shocked repeatedly.

"Mr. Tracy, I think-" said Brains quietly, but he was cut off.  
"No!" he held John's hand tightly.

"Father-" said Scott.

"I said no!" replied Jeff angrily. Scott took his father's hand away from John's and held it tightly in his own. "No!" Jeff said quietly. "No!" He sank down to the floor, weeping terribly. Tears fell from the eyes of everyone in the room.

Gordon was still pumping but his hands were gently moved away by Virgil, who then hugged him tightly.

Brains switched off the machines, and the absence of their sounds in the background made everyone feel an eerie silence in the room.

"Is he dead?" asked Jeff. He sounded like a small child. He knew the answer, of course, but it was as if he was looking for finality.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy." Stuttered Brains threw his tears. He took of his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Tin-Tin was being comforted by Grandma, until Kyrano led her away to her room. Grandma gave a look to the others, and Scott, Virgil and Gordon left the room, leaving Grandma alone with Jeff and John. Jeff was leaning on the bed rails to hard that his arms were numb. The edge of the bed was wet with his tears. He stroked John's pale cheek. Grandma lifted his arms, to little resistance, and hugged Jeff to her.

"Oh! Mother!" cried Jeff, and whimpered in her arms for several minutes.

"There, there, Jeffrey."

"My baby boy!"

"I know."

"I feel like I'm dying inside!"

"I know. I know."

"It hurts so bad!"

"I know, Jeff."

"You do?"

"I do."

They looked at each other knowingly, and Jeff calmed down. He kept crying, and touching John.

"Let it out, Jeff."

"I have to be strong. This is just like when-"

"Yes, Jeff. But you don't have little boys anymore."

"No. I know."

"You'll all be okay."

"Will we? I sent him up there, Mom! I sent him to his death. I'm always sending them to their deaths!" said Jeff, his voice becoming angry.

"They have a job to do, Jeff."

"A job I gave them! Jesus, Mom. I told Lucy I'd take care of them!"

"And you did. John died doing what he loved, Jeff."

Jeff mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair.  
"It's just so-" He cried out in pain as he punched the edge of the metal bed. His hand was cut badly.

Grandma sighed and went to the cabinet for a dressing. She put it on Jeff's hand.  
"I'm sorry, Mother."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Son."

Grandma tried to lead Jeff away but he clung to John.

"There's nothing there now, Jeff. It's just his body. John isn't there anymore."

Jeff smiled and leaned into his mother as she led him out to his room.

"Goodbye, Son."

* * *

"Someone should tell Alan," said Scott. He was sitting in the lounge with Virgil and Gordon. He looked at his brothers, but they looked at him blankly.

"I'll do it, said Scott, and headed for Jeff's desk.

"We'll all do it!" said Virgil, and Gordon nodded in agreement. They joined Scott.

"Thunderbird 5 from base. Come in Alan." Said Scott sadly.

"Alan here. How's John?" He was in his space suit.

Alan's smile faded as he took in the look on his elder brother's face.

"He's not-?"

"He's gone!" wept Scott.

Alan burst into tears. "When?"

"We worked on him for an hour after we got back. But we couldn't save him." Virgil sobbed to the point where it was hard for him to talk.

"He wasn't in pain," added Gordon. "He never woke up."

"What was wrong?"

"His heart stopped." Said Scott, more calmly. "I guess they'll have to post mortem him before we find out exactly what."

Tin-Tin entered the room, and we she saw that the boys were talking to Alan, she turned to leave. Scott stopped her and called her over. She spoke to Alan.

"I'm so sorry, Alan."

"Thanks, Tin-Tin."

"Are you going to be okay up there?"

"I guess I'll have to be," he sobbed. "Someone has to. Oh God, how am I going to go to his funeral?"

"We'll figure something out," said Scott.

"I'll do it." said Tin-Tin. "I can man the satellite."  
"But that means you'll miss the funeral!" said Alan.

"John is your brother, Alan. It's important that you go."

Everyone sighed at Tin-Tin's use of tenses. "John was my brother," mouthed Gordon. Nobody heard him.

"I've done the repairs. John saved Thunderbird 5. There was a fire."

Brains came in. "Scott, I need you help," he stammered, looking down at the floor.

Scott sighed. "Okay, Brains!" He got up and followed Brains to the sickroom.

* * *

"I called the doctor. He will be over tomorrow. We need to move John, Scott. I can't do it on my own," said Brains, weeping.

Scott smiled, sadly, and fought to stop his heart breaking as he helped Brains place John on a narrow trolley, and stood back as Brains covered him with a sheet. He was about to pull the sheet up over John's face, when Scott stopped him.

"Let me."

Brains nodded and stepped aside.

Scott planted a soft kiss on his brother's forehead. "Goodbye, Buddy. Say hi to Mom for me."

He pulled the sheet up delicately over John's face, and nodded to Brains. Both men pushed the trolley, painfully slowly, to the small walk-in freezer in Brains' lab. There was a unit on one side specially designed for storing bodies.

"The shrink-wrap is still on this stuff, Brains!"

"I know. We've never had to use it!" stammered Brains. In a most inefficient and caring manner, they placed him on the slab, and closed the door. They left to join the others, bar Jeff and Grandma, in the lounge.

* * *

Scott went to his father's cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Gordon fetched glasses. Scott poured some for each of them. They raised their glasses. Alan was still on the air, and furnished himself with a drink as well.

"To John," said Scott. Everyone joined in the toast.

"Hey!" said Gordon. "Do you remember that time you broke his telescope, Virg?"

"Yeah?" Virgil's crying stopped. The sad air in the room lifted slightly.

"Yeah!" said Scott. "He said he was going to insert it in you!"

Virgil laughed. "Yeah, I remember that."

"You really got him mad!" said Scott.

Virgil blew his nose. "I was seven years old!" he said. Everyone laughed.

"And what about when you were supposed to be proofreading his book?" chimed Alan.

Scott looked sheepish. "Yeah, I lost it. He had to re-write eleven chapters from memory before I found it."

"Yeah, he went nuts!" laughed Alan. "He chased you around the house with the manuscript!"

"Remember when Dad had to go and see his teacher at school because John told him he wouldn't do his homework?" giggled Gordon.

"Really? John?" said Tin-Tin.

"Yeah, he was a real rebel," said Gordon facetiously.

"Don't listen to him, Tin-Tin. John said he wouldn't do it because the data they were given to use was only accurate to two decimal places!" said Gordon.

Tin-Tin chuckled. The conversation went on into the night. They shared their funny, sad and moving stories about John. They laughed, cried and smiled together. At five in the morning, they resolved to go to bed, glad that they had taken this opportunity to share their thoughts about John.

"Goodnight Alan!" said Scott, the last to leave.

* * *

Grandma and Kyrano put Jeff to bed. He was so sad that he could barley move, and they laid him on top of the bedclothes, with his shirt and trousers on. The tears had irritated the skin on his face and he had pink, sore lines running down each side of his nose. Grandma wiped them with her handkerchief, and nodded to Kyrano. He bowed and left.

"It's going to be okay, Jeffrey," she said, stroking his arm. Jeff whimpered, and his mother kissed him on the forehead, and left to go


	3. Ghosts

Chapter 3

"Man, it's cold in here!" John awoke shivering, and found himself in the cold darkness. A sheet covered his face, and he scrambled to fight it off.

"What's going on?" he asked. He felt around at the side of him, and dangled his feet over the edge of the shelf he was lying on. His feet touched a frigid, steel floor, with a pattern on it that pressed into his feet. It reminded him of stepping on Lego in bare feet. He was confused; there was nothing like this on Thunderbird 5. He felt around to survey his surroundings.

"Have I been abducted?" he said to himself. He stood up, and his legs felt strange; like he had never learned to use them properly. He staggered as he walked forward in a straight line to try and find a wall. He only walked about 3 paces before he met the wall. He turned, put his hand on the wall at waist height, and walked along the wall until he had measured the room. It was very small.

"Am I a prisoner?" he said, quite loudly, in case anyone was listening to him. He felt around some more, until he found a long handle. He pulled on it, opened the door, and found himself in Brain's lab. It was dim, but light enough to see. He was taken aback.

"How did I get here?" he wondered. John looked back into the room he had come from, realised he was wearing only boxer shorts, and panic struck him.  
"Am I dead?" He knew that he had been ill. His memory was returning. There had been an incident on Thunderbird 5. He had been hurt. That was all he could remember. What if he had died? Was this really Brains' lab? Or was he in heaven? Or hell? He was distracted by a strange feeling in his hand. He held it up to his face to see it, and watched in awe as the IV line in his hand was somehow pushed out of his skin. His skin closed neatly afterwards.

"What the hell?"

He decided to test his theory. He went over to one of the cupboards, and took out a long hypodermic needle. He shut his eyes and stuck it into his thigh.

"Ouch!" he cried out. It hurt a lot more than he was expecting. He supposed, on the basis of this crude experiment, that he was alive.

"Maybe I was sleepwalking," he thought. As a child he had been wont to sleepwalk, when ill or upset. Although this had not happened for over ten years, he thought that to be the logical explanation, and headed upstairs to the main house to go to bed.

He laid in his room for several hours, but did not feel tired. He read a few books, and watched over his shoulder as the sun rose. He did a little typing on his computer, and waited for a reasonable hour to get up.

* * *

Scott emerged from his room, with still wet hair, and went to see Virgil in his.

"We should pick out something for John to wear," he said.

"What?"

"He wouldn't want to go half naked. You know how he is." Scott bit chewed at his lips as the word 'is' left them.

Virgil smiled. "Sure. I know. You go, I'll be along after I grab a shower."

"Okay, Virg."

Scott turned to leave, and headed to John's room. He was about to knock when he realised such an act was pointless. Scott opened the door and went inside, turning his back to the room as he entered.

"Hi, Scott."

Scott froze on hearing the voice. He turned slowly to see John sitting at his desk, in the very clothes Scott would have picked out for him.

"What the f-?" Scott blinked.

"Are you okay, Scott?" John leaned over to Scott. Scott trembled. John reached out and touched Scott's hand, and Scott screamed like a man running from a wild animal, before falling to the ground in a dead faint. The door swung open as Virgil ran in. He looked at John, then Scott, and then John again, and felt giddy.

"There's no such thing as ghosts!" he shrieked, before he too collapsed, on top of Scott. John tried to catch him, but was too late.

The noise brought Gordon, Brains, Grandma, and Kyrano from the kitchen.  
"Sweet, merciful crap!" yelled Gordon. "John?"

"What the hell is going on?" asked John. Gordon walked over to him and grabbed his arm, while Kyrano, and Grandma stood open-mouthed. Brains ran off.

"Well, you're no ghost!" said Gordon.

"Of course I'm not a ghost!" snorted John. "Is somebody going to explain this?"

"You died, John!" said Grandma.

"What?" said John in disbelief.

"We all watched it!" said Gordon.

"You did?" replied John.

Brains reappeared. He was carrying a DNA scanner, and pressed John's hand against it.

"John Tracy," said the machine.

"It's him!" said Brains, excitedly.

"Of course it's me!" shouted John.

"I've heard of this documented, but I've never actually seen it!" Brains stammered more than usual.

"What?" asked John.

"People coming back to life after being medically dead!"

Gordon whooped in celebration and hugged John, tightly.

"But to be so well after being so ill?" said Brains.

"Huh?" said John.

"You had a high fever and a serious head injury."

"Well I feel fine now!" said John.

"Oh God! Scott! Virgil!" Gordon stooped to tend to them, and was joined by Brains. Grandma went out.

Scott gave a groan and came to. John was propping him up in a sitting position, and had loosened his collar. When Scott opened his eyes, John's smiling face completely filled his view.

"Agh!" he jumped back.

"Take it easy, Scott. Long story short, I came back from the dead."

"This is isn't a dream?"

"Nope."

Scott poked John's arm. "It's really you?"

"It's really him!" said Brains, gladly. They helped Scott up and he went with Kyrano to get a glass of water. Gordon was slapping Virgil on the face, gently.

"Virg! Wake up, will you?" Virgil slowly opened his eyes, and looked at Gordon. He tugged on Gordon to help himself to stand.

"What happened?" he asked, groggily, as he turned around.

"You-" Gordon was about to answer when Virgil clapped eyes on John again. John smiled, and Virgil's eyes once more rolled up into his head. This time, Gordon caught him, and he and John placed Virgil on John's bed.

Grandma returned with Jeff. He looked old and tired, and was still in his pyjamas.

"I don't know how, but thank you God!" cried Jeff, as he rushed to John and embraced him. "What happened, Brains?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Tracy. But I would like to find out. This could be of great benefit to the scientific community."

"Gordon, can you tell the doctor what has happened? We still need him but in a slightly different capacity."

"Okay, Father." Gordon turned to go.

"And tell Alan and Tin-Tin."

"Right." Gordon left.

"What happened to Virgil?" asked Jeff, touching Virgil's arm but still holding one of John's.

"He fainted," said John. "Twice."

"Brains?" said Jeff.

Brains rolled Virgil into his side and felt his pulse. "He'll be okay, Mr. Tracy."

"John, we need to go to the sickroom," said Jeff.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" protested John.

"That in itself, John, may be reason for concern." Said Jeff.


	4. Good News

Chapter 4

"Thunderbird 5 from base! Come on Alan, haul ass!" Gordon hollered into the microphone. Alan's portrait was replaced by the video feed on Thunderbird 5. Alan looked worn out and depressed.  
"Yes, Gordon?"

"John's alive!"

"Gee, real funny, Gordon. You know I-"

"He's really alive! Brains said something about you metabolic rate slowing so much you can't detect it but you stay alive."

"Really?"

"Really!" said Gordon.

Alan shrieked, elated, and Gordon pulled his neck in like a turtle as the sound system squeaked when Alan moved the microphone too close to the speaker.

"Where is he?"

"In the sickroom. Dad wants him checked over, and Doc. Featherstone is on his way."

"Have him call me!"

"Okay, Alan."

"Alan, have you heard?" Tin-Tin had entered the room.

"Yes! It's fantastic!" The tired lines had all but disappeared from his face. "You still want to come up to the satellite?"

"You don't need me to, now, do you?" Tin-Tin smiled.

"Well you could-" Alan started to reply.

"Aw, get a room!" said Gordon, and flung the cushion from his father's desk chair at Alan's picture. Tin-Tin's face flushed.

"Hey!" said Alan. Gordon smiled at him, and they laughed as Alan signed off. Tin-Tin was crying tears of joy, and the mood was of electrifying delight.

* * *

Scott came into the room, with his arm behind Virgil, waiting to catch him if he fell. Virgil was walking unsteadily, and shaking slightly. His face was white and his eyes wide. Scott led him to one of the couches, where he laid down, and took sips of water.

"You okay, Virgil?" asked Gordon.

"Yeah, fine," said Virgil.

"He's just had a bit of a shock," said Scott.

"I thought he was a ghost! A real, actual ghost!" said Virgil nervously, the water in his glass juddering as she shivered.

Gordon chuckled slightly, but not too loud as he did not want to offend Virgil. It was true that Virgil was a little more 'sensitive' than the other boys, but Gordon felt that had he walked into John's room before Scott and Virgil, he might have had a similar reaction.

* * *

John was sitting on a bed in the sickroom, with Jeff looking on and Brains checking him over.

"Do you have any pain anywhere, John?" stuttered Brains.

"No, Brains, I feel fine," replied John.

"Are you sure, son?" asked Jeff, concerned.

"Yeah. In fact I feel better than usual."

"Really?" Jeff looked at Brains.

"Can I take some blood, John?" asked Brains, having some trouble over spitting out John's name.

John at first gave Brains a defiant look, and for a second Brains thought that he had a bestial look in his eyes. But his face softened and he spoke calmly. "Sure, Brains, go right ahead."

Brains took John's hand and began to look for a vein. "Strange," he said.

"What?" asked Jeff.

"Well, I put an IV in his hand yesterday. And there doesn't seem to be a wound here." Replied Brains.  
"I guess I just heal quickly!" said John, guarding his arm.

Brains took the blood sample and began recording John's pulse and blood pressure.  
"Your heart rate is only 60, John."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it's great! But your average is usually about 75."

"But that's a good thing, right?"

"Sure, John." Brains stammered. "I'll go and analyse this."

"Can I go about?" asked John.

"Let's wait until the doctor gets here, John."

"But, Dad!"

"John."

"Yessir," said John.

Brains was testing John's blood on various pieces of equipment.  
"Curious," he said to himself. He had expected some degree of anaemia, since John had suffered significant blood loss. There was none. John's blood looked healthier than it ever had. Brains re-tested it and got the same results. He cultured the blood for infection, and found none. He wanted to run another test, on the electron microscope, but had not enough blood left, so returned to John to take another sample.

"I need some more blood, John," said Brains.

"Again? Why?" replied John.

"I need to do more tests, and I haven't enough blood," Brains stammered.

John had an indignant look on his face.

"I know it's frustrating, Son," said Jeff. "But we really need to make sure you're okay." Said Jeff, soothingly.

John scoffed and held out his arm. Brains took a cannula, a phial and a tourniquet from the cabinet, opened the packets, and perched on the edge of the bed next to John. All the time, Brains watched John, carefully. He put the tourniquet around John's bicep, and tightened it. He slapped the crease of John's elbow with his fingers. Normally, this would make a vein visible. It did not. After a few minutes Brains thought he could see one faintly, and decided to try and use that one.

"Sharp scratch!" he warned John. He pressed the needle into John's arm, and nodded to himself when he got the vein. Holding John's arm, he turned slightly to reach his vacuum phial. He was astonished by what he saw next.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Brains. Jeff looked up as he heard Brains curse. Both men watched as the cannula was seemingly pushed out of John's arm from the inside. Brains looked at the cannula on the floor, then at Jeff, then at John. John's eyes were wide, and he seemed piqued. Brains threw the cannula into the sharps bin, and decided to try again.

"What!" he jumped back as this time, almost as soon as he put the needle into John's skin, it was shoved out with some force, and it struck in Brains' white coat.  
"Come on, Brains, what's the problem?" asked John. Jeff looked at him out of the corner of his eye. There was something wrong with John's voice, but Jeff could not place it. Brains tried a final time to insert the needle, but this time it simply would not pierce the skin. He tried his hand, and his other arm, before admitting defeat.

"This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen!" said Brains. "And believe me, I've seen some weird things."

"What?" asked Jeff.

"John's body seems to be trying to protect him from the needle."

"How is that possible?" asked John, a little wryly.

"I don't know, John." Brains shook his head.

"The doctor will be here soon, Brains," said Jeff.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy."

"Well whoop dee doo!" said John. "Maybe he'll do a better job!" said John.

"Thank you, Brains. Why don't you get a cup of coffee?"

"Okay, Mr. Tracy." Brains left.

"John, are you alright?" asked Jeff, seriously.

"I'm fine, Father."

"You're not yourself, John. I shouldn't have to tell you to act with a little more decorum. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I'm not tired!"

"I said get some sleep, John."

John flopped down onto the bed, and Jeff went after Brains.

* * *

"What's the situation?" asked Jeff. He and Brains were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

"I think we should turn the doctor away, Mr. Tracy." Said Brains, flatly.

"You think John's that good?" replied Jeff.

"No, Mr. Tracy, I don't."

"So why no doctor?" Jeff thought he knew what Brains was getting at, but liked people to speak plainly.

"I think there is some kind of problem with John."

"Problem?"

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy. What's happening to him is far from ordinary. So far from ordinary that I think having the doctor hear may give our game away."

"Yes?"

"I am not sure what it is. Could be a number of things. Mind control, a virus I can't detect, alien technology, mental illness, I'm not sure."

Jeff shuddered. There was a history of mental illness in the Tracy family. "I think there's something wrong with him too," said Jeff.

"What do you think?" asked Brains.  
"I don't know. He seems fine, Brains, it's just that if I hadn't seen him plainly with my own eyes, you couldn't convince me that that was John."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy. That is exactly my point."

"I'll tell the doctor he's no longer needed."

Brains nodded and stayed to nurse his coffee while Jeff went to make the call.


	5. Bad News

Scott put his head around the door of the sickroom. "John, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Scott," he replied, taciturnly.

"Really?"

"Really. Do you want something?"

Scott was a little hurt. John never spoke to him so, but Scott put his feelings aside, thinking that John must have been through a hell of a lot, what with dying and everything.

"Alan wants you to call him."

"Oh."

"Are you coming?"

"Sure." John smiled and followed Scott back to the lounge. He hailed Alan.

"Hi, John! It's good to see you!" he said.

"Hello." Replied John. Alan looked confused; he was expecting a little more response. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm alright? I'm fine. Man!" John paced up and down and punched his palm with his fist.

"Sorry, John, I just wanted to see you."

"Well you've seen me."

"Okay, goodbye." Alan was going to wisecrack about John owing him two weeks of satellite duty, but reserved the comment. He signed off.

* * *

"What's wrong, John?" asked Scott, concerned.

"Again with the platitudes!" sighed John.

"You're obviously not okay, or you wouldn't be talking like that."

John squared up to Scott.

"Are you going to hit me, John?"

The wild look in John's eyes vanished, and he exhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry. I just feel-"

"John, I told you to get some sleep!" admonished Jeff, standing in the doorway with Brains.

"You didn't tell me that!" said Scott, annoyed.

"I-" said John, but couldn't complete his sentence. He turned his head quickly to his left, then back again.

"John, are you alright?" asked Scott. John staggered back a few spaces, becoming more and more unsteady. Scott took hold of his waist,

and lowered him carefully to the floor.

"It's alright John. You're going to be okay." Scott soothed, but John's eyes glazed over, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Brains!" shouted Jeff, and he and Brains ran over to Scott. The three looked at each other.

"Sickroom!" yelled Jeff, and Scott picked him up. He was about to run out with him, when he stopped.

"What is it, Scott?" asked Jeff.

"Nothing, Father. He just seems a good deal heavier today."

Jeff smiled on only one side of his face.

"Anything we can do?" Asked Virgil and Gordon in unison.

"Yes, boys. Find out what the hell happened on Thunderbird 5."

"Yessir," they replied.

* * *

Brains tried to take some more blood from John, but this time his needle broke on John's skin.

"I don't understand, Mr. Tracy. His skin seems perfectly normal, but the needle can't penetrate it." Said Brains, frustrated. He went up to John's head and shone a penlight into each of his eyes. "Hmmm," he said.

"What is it?" asked Jeff.

"I just don't know, Mr. Tracy. His vitals are all over the place. First his pupils are pinpoint, then dilated. First he has hypothermia, then a fever. One minute he has bradycardia, then tachycardia. I don't know what to make of it."

"Should we get the doctor back, Father?" asked Scott, already making for the door.

"No, Scott. We can't." said Jeff.

"Can we get John to a hospital?"

"No, Son. I think that would be even worse in terms of preserving our secrecy. Also, at the moment, whatever happened to him is contained on this island. We don't know if this is contagious, we don't know if it's some kind of mind control or alien technology. We can't risk exposing people to that!"

"Okay, Father," said Scott, miserably.

"Mr. Tracy?"

"What is it, Brains?"

"Look."

John's face had taken on a terrible expression, as if all of his muscles had been pulled taught. The rest of his body followed suit, and his feet lifted up off the bed as his thigh muscles strained. His body began to shake, and foamy blood poured from his mouth.

"What's happening?" asked Scott, anxiously.

"He's having a seizure!" replied Jeff, and he grabbed one of John's ankles, trying to hold it still.

"No, Mr. Tracy, don't!" said Brains, and placed himself between Jeff and John. Jeff put his hand over his mouth.

"Do we keep hacopam?" asked Brains, consulting the drug packing chart on the wall.

"What's that?" asked Scott, looking in cupboards and drawers.

"It's an anticonvulsant. We may need it!" replied Brains, stuttering more than usual as he tried to concentrate. He found it and loaded it into a syringe. The skin around John's eyes was turning purple, and his elbows and knees were bruised. Brains leaned over him.

"I can't inject it. He's moving too much!" shouted Brains. John's thrashing was causing a lot of noise. As Brains, Jeff and Scott tried to hold on to John's arm, the fit subsided as quickly as it had begun.

"Thank God!" said Brains, and re-sheathed his needle. He put it in the sharps bin, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Brains checked John's vitals.

"He's okay."

"What happened?"

"I don't know!" replied Brains, and threw his hands up in despair.

"It's okay, Brains." Scott comforted him.

"Look at that!" said Jeff, pointed at John's face. The three men watched in astonishment as the bruises on John's face and body faded before their eyes.

"How is that possible?" asked Scott.

"It isn't," said Brains, flatly. All of them stayed and watched John intently.

* * *

"Thunderbird 5 from base. Come in, Alan," said Gordon, trying to raise him.

"Hello, Gordon!" replied Alan, and exchanged nods with Virgil, who was sitting next to Gordon.

Alan noted the serious nature of his brothers' expressions. "What's wrong?" asked Alan.

"John has taken a turn for the worse," said Virgil.

"What's wrong with him? Is he going to be okay?" asked Alan, edgily.

"We don't know. To _both_ questions." Said Virgil, seriously.

"Have you checked the sensor logs?" asked Gordon.

"Yes. There were several proximity alarms on the night we lost contact with John. All three went off, but the logs didn't show any actual object. Nothing. There was enough damage to suggest something big hit the station."

"Any evidence of intruders?"

"Intruders? No! You don't think I'd forget to report something like that, do you?"

"Sorry. Of course not. Was there anything odd when you got there?"

"Well, I say an object must have hit Thunderbird 5, but loads of circuits were fired. The solar transformer was blown, and a load of the comms equipment was blown. I'm still fixing the secondary systems. Some of the metal bulkhead rivets have welded themselves on."

"Like the place was struck by lightning?" asked Virgil.

"I guess so, Virg. But there's no lightning up here."

"No natural lightning, anyway," said Gordon.

"Do you really suspect foul play?" asked Alan, uneasily.

"We're not sure, Alan. Don't worry too much, just look sharp. All we know is that this is really, really weird," said Gordon, in an attempt to reassure Alan. It was a little successful.

"Better report anything unusual," ordered Virgil.

"As always!" replied Alan, a little chagrined.

"Okay. And better call in every two hours instead of eight, Alan," said Virgil, more softly.

"FAB, Virgil." Alan smiled and signed off. Virgil turned to Gordon.

"I don't know what the hell is going on here," he said. "But I don't like it."

* * *

John opened his eyes and looked toward the end of his bed.

"Sickroom again, huh?" he whispered.

"Yeah!" said Scott. "We're just going to move your stuff right on in!"

"Ha ha," said John, with tongue in cheek.

"Are you okay, John?" asked Jeff.

"Thank you, Father, I'm okay. I'm just a little tired."

"You seem to be in a better mood!" said Scott.

"Huh?"

"You've been acting like a real ass!" said Scott. His father shot him a look. He did not like bad language.

"I'm sorry," said John. "I don't remember."

Brains began to check his vital signs. "I need to try and take some blood, John.

"Sure, Brains. Go ahead." Brains gave Jeff a serious look, and took John's right arm. He did manage to get a blood sample, this time. "I need to go and analyse this," he said.

"Can I go back to my room?" asked John.

"Not until Brains gives you the all clear, John," said Jeff. He half expected an argument.

"Okay, Father." Said John. Scott looked at his father, concerned. They both smiled at John, and he smiled back.

Brains went to his lab and put some of the blood onto slides, some into tubes. He ran every test he could think of but found nothing. He looked at the blood under a microscope, but it looked perfectly normal to him. He chewed his tongue impatiently while he thought. At last, he had to entertain the idea that John might be cured. It grated against his instinct, but nonetheless he packed up and headed back to the sickroom.

"Can I see your tongue, John?" asked Brains, and John obliged. It was completely undamaged. He also looked at the back of John's head. The large cut had completely healed. There was no evidence it had ever been injured.

"What does that mean, Brains?" asked John.

"You heal very fast. You bit your tongue when you had your seizure."

"I had a seizure? I don't remember that."

"People often don't." said Jeff.

"But you say you feel fine?"

"Tip-top!" said John, cheerfully. "Do I have to stay here?"

"Stay here tonight, and I guess you can go about in the morning," said Brains.

"No duties, though!" said Jeff.

"Yes, Father."

"Get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight, Son."

* * *

Jeff and Brains left the room but lingered in the corridor outside.

"Are you sure he's alright, Brains?" asked Jeff.

"I can find nothing wrong with him now, Mr. Tracy," replied Brains.

"Is it wise to let him out."

"If I can find nothing wrong with him, I cannot treat him. If we let him out and keep an eye on him, we might discover some sort of trigger for his illness. I can't even call it an illness. I don't know what it is."

"Okay, Brains. You'd better get some rest, too."

"Yes Mr. Tracy. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Brains." The twp retired to bed; Brains went to his room and Jeff slept on one of the sickroom beds next to John.


	6. Out of Control

Chapter 6

The next morning John felt refreshed, and was allowed to take some exercise. He and Gordon took a swim while Virgil and Scott sat reading in deckchairs.

"How are you feeling, John?" asked Gordon.

"Fine," he replied.

"Well, I'm going to do some lengths."

"I'll join you."

"Okay."

John and Gordon began to swim up and down the pool. Normally, Gordon was much faster than any of his brothers, but he slowed his pace to keep an eye on John. He noticed that John was swimming faster, and so speeded up. He kept doing so until he was almost flat out, but still John was a little faster.

"I must be really out of condition!" said Gordon to himself. After fifty lengths he was beginning to feel tired, and could not exhaust himself in case there was a rescue call. He hauled himself onto the side, and sat on the edge with his feet dangling in the water. He watched John carefully, timing him in his head. Gordon was shocked; according to his timing, John was swimming faster than Gordon ever had. He took hold of Scott's arm, behind him.

"Hey!" said Scott. "What are you doing?"

"I just need to use your watch."

Gordon timed John again, and his suspicion was confirmed.

"Look at that!" said Gordon to Scott. "He's swimming Olympic standard. How is that possible?"

"I don't know!" said Scott.

Virgil was looking at John, open-mouthed. "Look!" he said, and pointed. "He's only coming up for air every five minutes!"

"How is that possible?" said Gordon.

"It isn't!" said Scott.

"Shit!" said Virgil. "I'll get Brains."

* * *

Brains stood at the edge of the water, calling to John. Eventually, he responded.

"John, can I talk to you, please?"  
"What do you want?"

"Can you come back to the sickroom, please?"

"Erm, no!" said John, and carried on swimming. After swimming one mile, his paced had not slowed.

"Please, John!" said Brains.

"Piss off!" shouted John.

"I'll get Dad!" said Virgil, and ran into the house. He returned presently, with Jeff in tow.

"Get out of the pool please, John."

"No!" he replied.

"Please, John."

"No!"

Jeff nodded to Scott. "Drain it!" he shouted.

Scott ran toward the house.

"All right! Jesus! I'm coming out!" said John, angrily.

He jumped out of the deep water in a single thrust. John could never normally do this; he always had to use the ladder. He was normally slender and lithe. Now his muscles rippled as he flexed them. Scott was now standing next to Jeff, and when John came to stand, dripping, in front of them, Scott was taking no chances. He took hold of one of John's arms.

"Let go," said John, quietly but almost viciously, like a warning snarl from a dog guarding his master.

"Take it easy, John. Let's just go back into the house," said Scott.

"Let go, or you will sorely regret it!" his teeth ground together as he spoke.

"John-" said Jeff. He was desperately upset. John had never exhibited this kind of behaviour before. But he cut himself off. "Are you taller?" he said as he sidled closer to John. He was sure that John was a little shorter than him. Now they stood eye to eye, and John was shoeless. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Let go, Scott!" Scott looked at his father but did not relinquish his grip. But in one, smooth, calculated movement, John jerked up his arm, lifting Scott clear off his feet, and then spun around. At the same time John took a firm grip of Scott's forearm, and threw him down. Scott cried out in pain.

John was now set upon from all sides. Virgil, Jeff and Gordon launched themselves at him, and they rolled around for several minutes in a strange human ball, with arms and legs flying out from all angles. At first, Virgil could not bring himself to hit his own brother, but a well-designed punch to the eye, administered by John, soon changed his mind. Ultimately, John did not win, and was dragged, hunched over like a crab, into the house.

* * *

John was extremely aggressive, just lashing out at people and brickwork alike, with almost no regard for his own safety. He was a man deranged, although he still seemed to understand where he was, and the identities of his captors, and he spouted language filthy enough to turn the air blue. Realising that they could not hold him for much longer, they deposited him bodily on the bed in the sickroom, and held him there while Brains tied him down with hard restraints.

Once he was securely fastened, the men stood back.

"I've never seen anything like that before in my life!" exclaimed Virgil.

"I have," said Jeff. "Cocaine."

"There were no drugs in his system, Mr. Tracy," said Brains.

"So what's wrong with him?" asked Jeff.

"There's nothing wrong with me! Let me go! I'll kill you all!" ranted John.

"You're sick, John!" said Jeff, almost at the point of tears.

"Brains said there was nothing wrong with me! He said I didn't have to stay in here!" cried John. He was pulling so hard at his restraints that they were bruising his arms. But the bruises kept disappearing, leaving behind ripples and bumps, like the skin of a plucked chicken, which eventually faded too. Brains watched the process, almost mesmerised.

"How did you hear that?" asked Jeff, surprised. "We were outside the room!"

John stopped struggling for a minute, like a child who briefly pauses from his tantrum because he has forgotten what he is crying about.

"Let me go!" he shouted irately.

"Okay, what's wrong with him?" asked Jeff, again. "If it isn't drugs, it isn't a virus, whatever, what is it?"

Scott appeared at the door, clutching his arm. "He's going to hell in a handbasket!"

"Scott?"

"I'm pretty sure he broke my arm, Father. He was so strong. That wasn't John. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't John."

"Brains, can you tend to Scott's arm?"

"Yes, Mr. Tracy." Brains took Scott to his lab to scan his arm. It was broken, but not severely, so Brains plastered it from hand to elbow, and furnished him with a sling.

"What are we going to do about him, Brains?"

Brains sighed, and wiped his glasses on his shirt. His eyes were red and puffy, and he rubbed at them, making them redder. Scott placed his good, right hand on Brains' shoulder. It was sometimes hard to remember that this shy genius was younger than him. Brains felt a particular affinity with John over the other Tracy boys. Like himself, John was quiet and reserved. Neither of them had much time for sports, and could melt a night away talking about astronomy or cosmology. Not normally one for such affections, now Brains turned to hug Scott.

"Thank you, Scott," he blubbed.

"Any time, Brains. Any time," replied Scott. When Brains had regained his composure, Scott let go of him. "Are you coming back upstairs?"

"No, Scott. I'll stay here and think of some other test to try," faltered Brains.

Scott nodded. "Give me a shout if you need anything." He went back to the sickroom.

* * *

"How's your arm, Scott?" asked Jeff when he went in.

"It'll be okay," he replied, and tried to hold it up to show his plaster cast, but it was too tender. "How's Lennox Lewis?" Scott looked over and answered his own question. John was now secured with two restraints on each limb, and he was breathing in and out through his nose, hard, and glaring at each person in the room in turn.

"Secure. Tin-Tin tried to give him some haldol but the needle won't pierce his skin again," said Virgil.

"It's getting late. What are we going to do?" asked Gordon.  
Jeff sighed. "I guess we'll have to take shifts staying in here. I'll take the first one. Anything happens, anything at all, you push the panic bar," he said. "Everyone else, get some sleep. This is going to be tough for a few days. But I know I can depend on you all."

The Tracy boys beamed with pride, and did as they were told. Jeff laid on his side on a bed facing John, and contemplated what to do about his son.


	7. Escape!

Chapter 7

Jeff began to feel weary as he lay looking at John. He approached John's bed and leaned over him.

"John?" he asked, quietly. "John?" he said , louder this time. John did not rouse, but snored and mumble, fast asleep. His eyelids flickered and his mouth twitched. Jeff did not want to be fooled again. He picked up a cotton bud from a glass jar on the counter top, and carefully held it just inside John's nose. He did not react. Jeff was relieved. He yawned and stretched. The clock above the window showed three o'clock. In three hours, Virgil would take over, and Jeff would be able to get some sleep.

He was pacing up and down the room, looking at some of the more curious medical instruments, when he thought he heard a sound from John. Immediately nervous, he turned and went straight to the head of John's bed. His condition seemed unchanged. Looking more closely, he saw a trickle of blood coming from John's ear. With one hand he reached toward the panic bar, but his keenness to help John got the better of him. He leaned closer to see more definitively the origin of the blood. In an instant, John's eyes opened, and his face assumed a look of sheer panic.

"Get away from me, Father! I can't control myself!" shouted John. Before Jeff could dive for the panic bar, John hit Jeff above the eyes with the full force of his own head. Blood erupted from the point of impact of both men, but while Jeff sank to the floor, John rotated his head and cackled at his father as he lost consciousness. John pulled on all of his restraints with one almighty wrench. They all broke, filling the air with tiny strips of cotton and fibres. John pulled the curtain across his bed, partially blocking the view from the door, and unceremoniously threw his insentient father onto it. He pulled the covers over him, and quietly made for the door. He slipped into the dark corridor without making a sound.

* * *

Brains was sitting in front of the bench in his lab, on a high stool. He was folding his feet first in front of, then behind the legs of the stool, deep in concentration. He was surrounded by books on analytical chemistry, and had several open in front of him.

"Damn it!" he shouted, and pushed the nearest pile of books onto the floor. The sound of them slapping the floor shocked him out of his brief rage, and he stood to gather them up. As he did so, he found one of them open on an unfamiliar page.

"Electron microscopy?" he said. "Of blood? Interesting." He dropped the book again, and hastily rushed about the lab, gathering equipment. He prepared his computer and scanning electron microscope, and waited eagerly for the results. He chewed at his already split and ragged fingernails in anticipation.

"Great Schrödinger's ghost!" exclaimed Brains. He hit print on his keyboard, and listened impatiently to the whirring mechanical sound from the printer. "Come on, come on!" Brains flapped his hands as if to make the process faster, and snatched out the black and white image from when it was , and raced to the sickroom.

* * *

At first glance, there was nothing out of place in the sickroom. Brains entered, and failed to notice John's bed. But to his surprise, there was nobody else in the room. "Mr. Tracy?" he called. As he turned around, he noticed the shredded restraints on the floor, and then saw Jeff lying on his back, with one hand hanging over the edge of John's bed. "Mr. Tracy! Can you hear me!" There was no reply. Brains leaned over, grabbed hold of the back of Jeff's belt, and pulled him onto his side. Then he rushed over and banged on the panic bar. He went back to Jeff, and stood with his hand on Jeff's head, hyperventilating.

He was soon joined by Scott and Virgil, fully clothed, and Gordon, in a pair of jogging bottoms.  
"What is it, Brains?" asked Scott, and Brains drew back the curtain. "Father!"

Virgil put his fist on his father's chest and shook him, hard. It made tiny specks of blood decorate the bedclothes with tiny red specks. "Can you hear me, Dad?"

"Are you alright, Brains?" asked Scott. Brains' face was wan, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the metal bed frame. He was silent for some minutes, breathing rapidly, and bent over to get his breath back.

Jeff groaned and clutched at his head.

"Are you alright, Mr. Tracy?" asked Brains. "What happened?"

"It was John. He attacked me. He just launched himself at me. Where is he?"

"We don't know, Father," replied John.

"I did some more tests, Mr. Tracy. It isn't good news," said Brains.

"Out with it, Brains!" said Jeff, and slowly sat up. Virgil helped him to clean up his face.  
"I looked at a blood sample with the electron microscope, and I found these." Brains held up the image he had printed, and struggled to keep his hands still enough to let everyone see it.

"What the hell are they?" asked Scott.

Virgil drew in a sharp breath and clapped his hand over his mouth. "Nanobots!" he said.

"What?" said Scott.

"They're tiny little robots. I worked with some back when I was at DSAT. But mine were bigger," said Virgil.

"How did they get into John?" asked Jeff.

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy. This is very advanced technology. I am pretty sure that these nanobots are responsible for John's rapid healing, and his improved strength and stamina," stuttered Brains.

"When we found him he had a pinprick, bruised wound on his neck!" said Scott.

"It wasn't there when he got here!" exclaimed Brains. "It's possible that's how they got in, and they would have starting work on healing that wound first of all."

"So someone did this to him? Why?"

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy."

"What about the fact that he's gone crazy-eight bonkers?" said Gordon.

"That too, Gordon, I suppose," said Brains.

"John's still in there," said Jeff. "I think he tried to warn me before he attacked me," said Jeff.

"Perhaps John still has some control," said Brains.

"What does this mean, Brains?" asked Jeff, with his hand across his closed eyes.

"Well, Mr. Tracy, if the nanobots are in his blood, they are probably in all of his systems."

"So what will happen to him?"

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy. Perhaps the reason that we could not pierce John's skin with a needle was because they sense John when John is going to be hurt. Perhaps they were trying to protect him."  
"I never heard of anything like that!" said Scott, shaking his head.

"It's theoretically possible, I suppose," said Virgil. "If you could get the nanobots to effectively communicate with each other, you could make them fast and efficient at all kinds of things, right at the molecular level!" said Virgil.

"So he's been rewired?" asked Gordon.

"I suppose that's a good analogy, Gordon. It might explain why he had the seizure, and the strange observations. Perhaps they were rewiring his brain!" said Brains.

"What about when he died. Or didn't die. You know what I mean!" asked Gordon.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he simply died, or didn't die, from his head injury, or blood loss, and it just took the nanobots a few hours to fix it," said Brains.

"How do we get them out of him, Brains!" asked Jeff, urgently.

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy." Brains hated telling Jeff that.

"Suppose we can't get them out of him. What happens then?" asked Scott.

"John could be under the control of the nanobots, Scott. And whoever programmed their objective," said Brains, seriously.  
"Could somebody have done this to infiltrate International Rescue?" asked Jeff.

"I don't know that either, Mr. Tracy. Clearly somebody did this to John, but as of now it is person or persons unknown," said Brains.

"So John might give us away!" said Scott, touching his chin.

"There's no telling what he might do," said Brains, hanging his head.

"Brains, find a way to kill those things!" said Jeff. "Somebody call Alan and warn him that Thunderbird 5 may be in danger."

Brains and Scott nodded and left to carry out their designated tasks. Jeff tried to stand but his head throbbed and swam, and Virgil had to help him back onto the bed.

"Are you going to be alright, Father?" he asked.

"Don't worry about me," breathed Jeff, weakly. "Just find your brother."


	8. Strike Two

Chapter 8

"Thunderbird 5 from base! Come in Alan!" Scott spoke urgently.  
"Scott?" asked Alan. Scott's tone gave away his anguish.

"Alan! The lightning that struck Thunderbird 5, did it have a discrete frequency?"

There was a pause while Alan brought up the information on his console. "Yeah, Scott."

"What was it?"

"Shit. It's the same frequency as Thunderbird 5's shields!"

"It must have gone straight through. That might be why it wasn't detected- the sensors thought they were detecting their own shields. Alan, set the shields to modulate."  
"You think they'll do it again?"

"I think they might, if we don't manage to stop John."

"What's happened now?"

"He's taken off. He nutted Dad, and Brains found nanobots in his blood."

"Gee, nanobots?"

"Little robots."

"I know what nanobots are."

"Sorry, kiddo."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"We can't find him to see."

"Oh, God! Is everyone okay?" asked Alan.

Scott held up his plaster cast. "And Dad isn't much better."

"Shit! And John did that?"

"Yep. He was stronger than anyone I ever met. It took Dad, Gordon and Virgil to bring him down, and strap him to a bed."

"But he got out?"

"Yeah. We should have used a damn straitjacket if you ask me. He's completely tonto."

"Yeah?"

"And it seems someone somehow got aboard Thunderbird 5 while John was out with the smack on the head, and injected these nanobots into him!" said Scott, ever succinct.

"Shit!" Alan looked scared and glanced around him.

"Take it easy, Alan, but look sharp!"

"Sure, Scott." Alan signed off. Scott went to the lab to tell Brains about developments.

* * *

Brains was standing in his lab, wearing a welder's mask and pointing a lit blowtorch into a metal canister. Scott knocked on the door as he went in to get Brains' attention.

"Scott?"

"I've spoken to Alan, and the 'lightning' that we talked about earlier was, in fact, a focussed energy beam, at exactly the frequency of Thunderbird 5's shields."

"Ingenious!" said Brains.

"I've told Alan to modulate the shield frequency."

"That's exactly what I would have suggested."

"What are you doing?" asked Scott.

"I'm looking for ways to destroy the nanobots. They seem to be fairly sensitive to heat," stuttered Brains.

"Where did you get them?"

"From the blood sample I took. I put them in a metal container, and they replicated."

"Huh?"

"They used the resources available to them to make more. I had to put them in a glass beaker."

"So they're breeding?"

"Not exactly. But there are bound to be more of them inside John, and whatever is left of the John we know cannot hold out forever."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I've done a series of tests on them. Strong acid kills them, but we're talking fuming sulphuric acid."

"So that would kill John, too?"

"It would dissolve him."

"Jesus, Brains!"

"I'm sorry, Scott," he stammered. "I've looked at mechanical destruction, which won't work either because we'd never be able to get them all, and freezing. That kills them, but again, we'd have to freeze John."

"We already froze him once."

"It would have to be much colder than that. Probably liquid nitrogen."

"Can we try and focus on methods that don't involve killing John?"

"I'm doing my best, Scott."

"I know, Brains. I'm sorry. I'll go and talk to Father."

The two men nodded to each other, and Scott left Brains to his work.

* * *

"Father, are you okay?" asked Scott as he entered the sickroom. Jeff was sitting on the bed, with his legs over one side. He was leaning on his knees with his elbows, staring at the ground.

"I'm okay, Scott."

"Have Virgil and Gordon had any luck?"

"No. Not yet."

"Where would John go if-"

"It isn't John, Scott. He doesn't think like John."

Scott sighed. "I've spoken to Alan, and Brains. We think that an energy beam was used to get through Thunderbird 5's shields. Alan is looking out for trouble. Brains is working on ways to kill the nanobots."

"Okay, thanks, Scott. Listen, I think I'd be more useful to the effort if I were at my desk in the lounge."

"Okay, Father."

"I'll need your help, Scott, every time I try to stand, I fall down."

"John got your head pretty good?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't you be better off staying here?"

"I can't do anything from here. This is a desperate situation, and I can't afford to lie around in the sickroom."

Scott was going to challenge him, when he realised Jeff was right. "Okay, Father. Let's go." Jeff leaned on his son's shoulder, and was walked into the lounge.

* * *

Virgil looked at Gordon, and gestured to him by pointing his finger at the ceiling. They were walking through the tunnel that led to the machinery for moving Thunderbird 1 down the ramp. Gordon had heard footsteps above, and they walked carefully up to the service hatch at the end of the section. Gordon climbed the short ladder that led to the hatch, and placed his ear flat against the hatch cover. He shook his head at Virgil, and slowly turned the wheel to open it. Gordon pushed it up a little; just enough for him to survey the area of the room above him. It was a sloping space, dimly lit, with indentations into the steel floor where the eight-foot cogs that rolled Thunderbird 1 down to the level below the swimming pool bit.

"All clear, Virg," said Gordon, and climbed up out of the tunnel. Virgil followed.

"We've pretty much looked everywhere, Gordon."

"Yeah, but there are so many places to hide round here, and all he'd have to do is keep moving ahead of us."

"I guess." Virgil lifted the hatch cover and dropped it back into place. He was about to screw the lid back down, when Gordon put his hand on his shoulder.

"What?" he whispered, and slowly turned around. They were six feet from John. He seemed to have come from nowhere, and Virgil and Gordon froze.

"Will you come with us please, John?" asked Virgil, kindly, and reached out with his hand.  
John did not reply, but gave a low, malevolent cackle, which grew louder until he was laughing like a man insane, and he looked up at the machinery above them with his arms outstretched to his sides.

"Come on, John!" said Gordon. Again there was no reply. Gordon stepped back as, in a single, powerful leap, John jumped up into the rigging of the machinery above.

"See you later, boys!" said John, and disappeared up the ramp.

"Damn it!" yelled Virgil. "We could have had him!"

Gordon was about to speak, when he heard a familiar rumble. Virgil recognised it too, and frantically pulled open the hatch. Gordon jumped into the hole, and Virgil followed him. There was no time to close the hatch before the huge gear-wheels of the Thunderbird 1 gantry drove over it.

Virgil spoke into his watch. "Scott! He's launching Thunderbird 1!"

"The hell he is!" replied Scott. He looked over at his father in the lounge, who flipped a switch under his desk. All power to the section was cut, the gantry stopped, and Gordon and Virgil breathed relief in the darkness.

"That was close!" said Gordon.

Virgil patted him on the chest. "Come on. He must still be in the cockpit of Thunderbird 1!"

Both men ran up the inspection walkway, and Gordon jumped across the void between it and the door of Thunderbird 1, since the craft was no longer in it's stored position. The door was open, and Gordon made a quick search of the cockpit.

"He's not here!" said Gordon. "Damn!" he said, and slapped the inside of the wall.

Virgil jumped in too, and found the launch sequence controls still at stationary.  
"He must have started the sequence from the hangar controls!" he said. "Even running flat out, he should have never been able to get there from here that quickly."

"So he was never in here?"

Virgil shook his head. "He's messing with us." They retreated to Brains' lab.

* * *

"Father? Father?" said Scott, shaking Jeff's shoulder. Jeff was dozing in his chair. Scott was very worried about his head injury, since he seemed so groggy and unsteady, but was powerless to do anything about it.

Jeff woke up slowly. "What is it, Scott? Did you find him?"

"No, Father. But we have to move to the lab. Brains is still working, it would be better if we were all in one place." Scott spoke uncomfortably, as he was unaccustomed to giving orders to his father. Jeff simply nodded, and was led out towards the lab by Kyrano, while Scott took up the rear of the party behind Grandma and Tin-Tin. Scott was relieved as Jeff seemed to be having less difficulty walking.

* * *

They found Brains hard at work. Virgil and Gordon were with him.

"Any more news?" asked Scott.

"We can't find him!" said Virgil. "We can't just chase him around. We need a plan!"

"Brains?" asked Scott.

"Well, I've been examining the nanobots. Each of them emits a small electrical field. It mask's John's own life signs, but we might be able to track him with it," stammered Brains. He crouched down onto the floor and rummaged around in one of the cupboards. He pulled out a hand-held device with an LCD screen. He stood up, switched the device on, and held it over his beaker of nanobots. The machine made a squealing noise, like a metal detector. It got louder the closer it was held to them.

"This will detect him, but only at quite close range," said Brains.

"That won't help much," said Virgil. "He's pretty fast."

"Yeah!" said Gordon.

"I can use the island sensors to track him, but I will need to make several alterations to the computer system," said Brains.

"Can you do it?" asked Scott.

"It will be faster if Tin-Tin and Virgil will help."

Virgil and Tin-Tin helped Brains remove the cover to the main lab computer. They moved some of the circuit boras around, installed a few new ones, and waited while Brains called up a map of the base, and began the process of programming it to track John.

* * *

Alan Tracy was sitting in the crew quarters on Thunderbird 5. He found the long periods of solitude difficult to deal with at the best of times, but present events made it even more so. He was trying to read, but was making slow progress; his mind filled with concern for John and the rest of his family. He missed Tin-Tin, too, and his muscles tensed as he imagined her in danger.

"Why don't you just tell her?" he asked himself. He shook his head, frustrated at his own ineffectiveness. He kicked his legs back and forth on the edge of his bed, and rested his chin in his hands, melancholy.

He was shaken violently from his depression by the proximity alarm. He ran into the communications room, and glared at the viewer. Another alarm went off. He could see a wavefront coming towards the satellite from all sides. As he headed for the radio, he was knocked off his feet by a massive impact that rocked Thunderbird 5 like it had been dropped from a great height. Alan fell to the ground with a thud, and landed painfully on his knees. He cried out but dragged himself along the wall; holding onto the hull segment joins as the station continued to shake. He dragged himself up, and grabbed the microphone.

"Base from Thunderbird 5! Base from Thunderbird 5!" he yelled. There was only static in reply. He changed frequencies and tried again. He heard his own transmission repeated to him.

"A dampening field!" he cried. Thunderbird 5 was now rocked by a series of blasts, and Alan's chin crashed onto the console. He stood again, and turned up the gain on the transmitter as high as possible.

"Base from Thunderbird 5. I'm under attack! Request immediate assistance!"

The computer's voice spoke. "Intruder alert!"

"I'm being boarded!" shouted Alan. He turned the transmitter over to automatic broadcast, and ripped off the top cover. This way his message would be sent out ad infinitum, and unless somebody took the trouble to go under the console and check the wiring, they would never know. He punched up the sensor report on the viewer. He could see such a mass of life signs that they crowded the space in the airlock; he was greatly outnumbered. Alan staggered to the small armoury, armed himself heavily, and locked himself inside.


	9. The Infiltrator

Chapter 9

John mentally pushed at the intense wall of pain in his head. He was fighting the foreign force for control of his senses. He felt weak and small; pushed to the corner of his mind. He remembered seeing his father, and attacking him, which filled him with shame but now managed to see that he was standing on the control platform next to Thunderbird 1. The craft was partly descended down the ramp. He was suddenly terrified, as he found himself standing very close to the edge, with no recollection of how he got there.. He tried to step back, but had no control over his body. He could not cry out. He watched as his hands worked the controls, trying to initiate a launch sequence. There was no power to the ramp mechanism, and his hands were trying to reroute power to it. He battled to tear his hands away, but he could not. Something was pulling at him. It was as if somebody were giving him orders, and he could not ignore them; it was the deepest psychological torment John could ever have imagined. In his mind, he clutched at his temples, but his body disobeyed him and carried on working the controls.

"What am I doing?" thought John.

"I am taking Thunderbird 1," his own mind seemed to answer. John was horrified.  
"Why would I do that?" he thought.

"I am taking Thunderbird 1. I am going to spread us."

"Us?"

John felt a prickling sensation in his head, and felt his consciousness fading."No!" he tried to shout. Briefly, his touch sensation was restored, and he felt the most dreadful crawling sensation coursing through his veins. He filled with terror as he was shown images of unfamiliar beings taking over Thunderbird 5, then Tracy Island, and stealing the Thunderbird machines. Moving images of staggering, automatic people filling large cities, and fighting eachother, taken over by the same force that controlled John. The last image he saw before his consciousness was forced back into suppression, was the exsanguinated bodies of his family lying in the Tracy lounge.

* * *

"Someone is trying to reroute power to the launch controls of Thunderbird 1!" cried Tin-Tin from the power management console.

"Lock him out!" shouted Scott, and jogged over to join her. He slender fingers whirred over the keyboard, and power was once again cut off. Tin-Tin sighed.

"Keep an eye on it, Tin-Tin. And keep power for anything away from John!" said Scott.

Tin-Tin nodded. "Now, control for the entire base is down here. Is John trying to steal our technology?"

"I don't know. But I think we have to assume the worst. Any of our craft could become a devastating weapon in the wrong hands, whether John's or someone else's," said Scott. "He is certainly after something. If he wanted to escape to somewhere, he would have gone by now."

Virgil took Scott to one side. "What are we going to do about Dad?"

"What?"

"Look at him."

Scott turned to look at Jeff. He was leaning against the cupboard on his stool, with his head tilted to one side and his eyes glassy. Blood still trickled slowly from the bandage on his head. "Hmmm," said Scott. "I don't know. We can't leave him in the sickroom."  
Virgil nodded to him. He went to his Father and gently roused him. "Father? Why don't you lie down for a while?"  
"I'm not tired, Alan," said Jeff.

Virgil smiled at him. "I know, Father, but you can't be worn out if we get a rescue call, can you?"

"Alright, Alan."

Virgil and Scott helped him up onto a bench, and Grandma covered him with a blanket. He was soon asleep, although he mumbled incoherently.

"Someone should probably wake him up every couple of hours," said Gordon. Scott nodded.

* * *

Brains punched up a screen showing a schematic of the base. A small, red light was pulsating in the corner of the Thunderbird 1 hangar. It glowed eerily in the dim room.

"Is that John?" asked Gordon.

"I'm not sure. I think so," said Brains. There were other, smaller lights in various other locations. "We have a lot of equipment that emits electrical fields. That reading is the strongest, though, Gordon, and I think that it might be him."  
"So are we actually any closer to being able to track him? Or are we still going to be crawling around in the dark?" asked Virgil, impatiently.

Virgil screwed his mouth up, and looked at Scott. Scott shook his head.  
"If you check out the smaller signals, I'll be able to fine tune it. You can track all the signals with this." Brains handed Virgil the hand-held scanner, and inserted a data card from the computer. The image on the computer screen appeared on the hand held.

Virgil eyed it with a little suspicion. "Okay. So we can find him. How do we bring him down?"

"I am trying to interface with the nanobots, Virgil. If I can communicate with them, I should be able to reprogramme some of them to disable the others. Then we have to get them into his system," said Brains.

"Will he be back to normal?" asked Gordon.

"I don't know. Clearly the nanobots have made some changes to his physiology. I don't know if we can undo them, Gordon," replied Brains.

"How do we get hold of him? I mean, to get them into him?" asked Virgil.

"What do you think, Brains? We could use a tranquiliser gun," said Scott.

"I don't know if that would work, Scott. Virgil and Gordon said that he was able to move very quickly, and we know his enhanced hearing would make it difficult to creep up on him. Also, we could not pierce his skin with a needle," said Brains.

"You could when he was out cold, so maybe if he wasn't expecting it-" began Virgil.

"What about gas?" asked Gordon. "We could flood some of the rooms with halothane."

"I suppose that might work, Gordon," said Brains.  
"Can you do it, Brains?" asked Scott, excited.

"Yes, Scott, I think so. We can connect the carrier gas to the citadel air-filtering system. That way we could localise the gas to a single room, if necessary," stammered Brains.

"Make it happen, Brains," said Scott. Brains looked over at Jeff, sadly, nodded to Scott, and set about his preparations.

"Virgil, Gordon, go out and try and eliminate some of those electric field sources Brains was talking about," said Scott.

"What if we run into John?" asked Gordon.

"I guess we'll gas you, too!" said Scott, and patted Virgil on the shoulder. He and Gordon did as they had been asked.

* * *

Gordon and Virgil made their way through the house, checking on the hand held device for sources. They found several electrical appliances giving off a signal, and fed the information to Brains. He seemed to think that John was in the Thunderbird 2 hangar, as the signal there, with the new information, was most likely to be him. On that basis, Virgil and Gordon headed for the Thunderbird 1 hangar, one of only two other signals. The hangar was trashed, with equipment and parts strewn all over the place. There were mission log files and data cartridges out, and some in the viewer. Someone had been reading them. They approached with caution. As they crept toward the end of the hangar, Thunderbird 1 was out of it's normal position, and so blocked their view of the control gantry. As they rounded the craft's thruster exhausts, they stared, surprised, at John, standing at the controls.

"Come down from there, John!" shouted Virgil. John stared at him, with a wicked smile on his face.  
"Virg," said Gordon, quietly and out of the corner of his mouth. "I think we'd better get out of here."

Virgil looked from John to Gordon, and in a split second felt a biting pain in his leg. At first it was a little like a small scald from hot water, but then it radiated out from the centre and spread up and down his leg. He fell down, and felt another bite in his arm.

Gordon yelled into his watch. "He's shooting at us! He's fucking shooting at us!" while dragging Virgil underneath Thunderbird 1. He opened a hatch, and the two of them dropped through into the service tunnel below.

"Turn on the gas!" yelled Gordon.

"Too late! He's on the move!" yelled Scott through Gordon's watch. "Get out of there!"

"You okay, Virg?" he asked his brother.

"'Tis just a scratch, Gordy," he said, weakly, and Gordon threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He ran back to the lab.

* * *

"Shit! Virgil!" shouted Scott when he saw them enter. Gordon gently laid him down on the bench opposite Jeff, who was still sleeping. Brains and Tin-Tin left what they were doing, and came to tend to Virgil. Virgil cried out as Brains poked his wounds. He injected them with a pink polymer compound, dressed them, and covered Virgil with a blanket. Tin-Tin fetched an oxygen bottle, and put it on Virgil's face.

"How is he, Brains?" asked Scott in a low voice, with Gordon standing behind him.  
"He'll be alright, Scott. His wounds are not too serious, although he will need surgery later, but he's in shock. We'll have to keep an eye on him," stammered Brains. He lingered over his words more than usual; he was exhausted.

"What the hell do we do now?" said Scott, with his head in his hands. "Dad and Virg are out for the count, I have a broken arm. We're all crippled and holed up in the lab! What's the son of a bitch going to do next? Hell in a handbasket. That's where we're going!"

Gordon put his hand on his brother's shoulder. He was not sure what to do, as it was almost always Scott who provided comfort in the event of indecisiveness. His musing was interrupted by a signal from the radio.

"Base from Thunderbird 5. I'm under attack! Request immediate assistance."

"Intruder alert!"

"I'm being boarded!"

Scott looked up and frowned, severely.

"Thunderbird 5 from base! Come in Alan!" He got no response after several attempts, and took a few seconds to think. "Gordon, you need to go up in Thunderbird 3."

"Alone?"

"I need to stay here."  
"But what if-"  
"I'll go!" said Tin-Tin.

"No, Tin-Tin," said Scott.

"Needs must," said Tin-Tin, calmly. She looked to her father for reassurance, who smiled and bowed slightly. She looked at Scott, hard.

"Okay, Tin-Tin."

"FAB, Scott," said Gordon.

"I can restore power to Thunderbird 3 for long enough for you to launch. Keep in contact and I will seal off the section with you inside," said Brains.

"Okay, Brains."

"And Gordon?" said Scott.

"Yes?"

"Arm yourselves."

Tin-Tin and Gordon headed for Thunderbird 3, weapons drawn. Gordon slipped into his 'on duty' frame of mind, and was acting in a clam and calculated manner. Tin-Tin had never been so excited in her life, and was breathing so hard that it made the ends of her hair fly up and down. But her delight at finally being 'one of the boys' was totally overshadowed by her trepidation about what lay ahead, and her fears for Alan's safety. They made it in one piece to Thunderbird 3, and launched into the darkness.


	10. The Rescue

Chapter 10

Gordon became increasingly nervous as they approached the top of the earth's atmosphere. Tin-Tin had changed into her overalls, and Gordon into his IR uniform.  
"Can you carry a laser rifle, Tin-Tin?" asked Gordon.

"Of course."

"Okay, so a rifle each, two pistols, and five stun grenades."

"Check."

"And stay behind me!"

"Yes, Gordon. But-" She was cut off.  
"What the hell are those?" yelled Gordon. The space sensors were now effective as they were outside the denser layers of atmosphere. On his scanner was the image of Thunderbird 3, and two more objects between it and Thunderbird 3. Each object was marked with a strange insignia. One seemed to have an extending section that covered the Thunderbird 3 docking port on the satellite. The gap was closing; it would not be long before Gordon would be able to see Thunderbird 5 for himself. He had to think fast.

"Thunderbird 5 from Thunderbird 3. Come in Alan!"

"Gordon!" Alan's voice was interspersed with the sound of small explosions. "I'm under attack!"

"We're almost there kiddo! Hang on!" shouted Gordon, and looked at Tin-Tin. She was staring at the viewer. Alan's picture was dark, and she could not see whether he was hurt.

"What's your situation?"

"I'm in the armoury! I can't hold on much longer!"

"Arming weapons!" said Gordon in a low voice. A targeting screen replaced Alan's image, and Gordon locked on to the gantry extending from one of the ships.

"Unidentified craft from International Rescue! Desist and leave the area!" Gordon broadcast on all frequencies. This caused one of the crafts to turn, and fire on Thunderbird 3. The vessel emitted a blast of light, which seemed to surround Thunderbird 3, and then impact from all sides, like a ball of lightning. Tin-Tin and Gordon were tossed like rag dolls, though fortunately their seatbelts kept them in their seats. One of the engine warning lights lit up on his panel. It had been damaged by the blast, but not severely.

"What the hell was that? Well there goes diplomacy!" yelled Gordon, and retargeted his weapons on the vessel attacking him.

"Firing!" he yelled, and two fat laser beams immediately cut into the hull of the enemy vessel. It moved away from the station, and badly damaged, tried to flee.  
"Oh, no you don't!" growled Gordon, and fired again. This time he struck one of the engine plants, and the vessel exploded into a tiny pieces. Tin-Tin was shocked, but Gordon's face was unchanged as he manoeuvred his craft around the rear of the satellite. He targeted his lasers on the metal tube between the two craft.

Tin-Tin drew in breath, sharply. "What if the airlock is open?"

"No. You can't have both doors open at once." He fired his weapon. This time, a single, much finer laser erupted from the craft, and finely sliced the tube in two. Gordon immediately fired on the other vessel. It turned and fired another ball lightning weapon. Damage warning sirens were going off on Thunderbird 3. Gordon seemed oblivious, and pursued the craft. Smoke filled the cockpit, and Tin-Tin coughed, but again, Gordon was unaffected. He followed his target true, and fired again at very close range. The ship exploded into smithereens, and some of the larger pieces smashed into Thunderbird 3, buffeting it around. Gordon fought for control. Some more debris smashed into Thunderbird 5, inverting it. Gordon steered back for the satellite. A hose and some wiring fell from the ceiling, ripping down the side of Gordon's chair. Sparks flew from one of the walls, and a small fire started. He pulled on a lever, and the fire was extinguished.

"Alan! Come in!" hollered Gordon. There was no reply. Tin-Tin, still coughing, gave him a concerned look. Gordon put his hand on hers, and tapped it gently. He flipped some switches, and the smoke began to clear as the craft lurched around in the direction of Thunderbird 5. The ship juddered from turning so tightly in such a small circle with a damaged engine. Heading back for the satellite, Gordon used his lasers once more to cut away the remains of the access tube which had come from one of the ships.

"For God's sake, Alan, talk to me!" said Gordon as he shoved the nose of his craft into the docking port. There was a horrible scraping sound as the last crumpled pieces of metal from the access tube scraped up the nose cone. Large pieces of orange metal swarf gathered into coils, and came to rest on the window.

When they came to a stop, Gordon and Tin-Tin both made for the door.  
"Stay behind me!" ordered Gordon. Tin-Tin nodded. They headed through the airlock, and emerged in a dim Thunderbird 5. The emergency lights were flickering on and off, and the walls were peppered with charred marks and holes. The floor was covered in tiny pieces of metal, and it was like walking on scree. Gordon heard crunching footsteps.  
"Alan?" he asked. He held up his arm, to which a torch was attached, and shone it across the room. The communications console was in pieces, as if it had been entirely taken apart. The door to the crew quarters was lying on the floor, and the door to the armoury had a large hole burned into it.  
"Alan!" called Tin-Tin. There was no reply. The crunching sound moved closer, and Gordon shone his torch at the ground.  
"What the-"

Something leapt at Gordon and pushed him backwards. He sank a few inches into the gravel, and lost his pistol. He could not get to his other weapons, as the creature was pressing on his arms. Gordon screamed. The beast was like a large, metal spider, with a semi-living body. It was trying to push something into Gordon's neck. He struggled underneath it for dear life.

Tin-Tin shut one eye and made aim with her pistol at the middle of the creature. She fired one long, continuous blast. For a few seconds the creature was held motionless, and Gordon managed to scramble free. Then it was destroyed, and blew into pieces indistinguishable from those littering the floor. Gordon jumped to his feet, and rubbed his neck.  
"Thanks, Tin-Tin!"

"No problem. Let's find Alan."

They crunched their way around the base. Tin-Tin paused and filled a small container with some of the debris from the floor. Ever practical, she also filmed the station, and tore the computer memory cards out and folded them into her overalls.

"I think they're all gone, Tin-Tin," said Gordon, and relaxed slightly. They finally made their way to the armoury. At first glance, it was empty. But they saw a cream piece of material poking out of the somewhat larger pile of debris in the small room. Gordon jumped onto the heap, and behind it found Alan unconscious, squeezed in between the wall and one of the weapon racks. There was a large pile of guns and spent fuel cells in front of him.

"Alan!" yelled Gordon, and slapped his face.

Alan opened his eyes a tiny amount. "Gordon!" he whispered weakly. "There are ships outside! We're under attack!"

"We got them, kiddo. Gordon held his torch up to examine Alan closely. His uniform jacket was ripped, revealing his cut and bruised chest. His head was cut open, and blood was dripping from his mouth, and there was a large, circular wound on his neck.

"Oh shit!" said Gordon, louder than he had meant to.  
"What?" croaked Alan.

"Nothing, Alan. What happened?"

"They were like living machines! Made of metal, but alive! They kept on coming at me, thousands of them. I kept shooting and shooting, but they kept coming! They tore at me, trying to get to my neck! I just couldn't fight them any more. There were too many!" said Alan, upset.

"You did good, kid. Come on, let's get you out of here." Gordon pulled Alan into the main room by his arms. He grimaced but did not cry out.  
"Tin-Tin!" he said when he saw her. His pained face became more serene, and he smiled up at her. "What are you doing here?"  
"I thought I'd take you up on your offer."

"Thanks. Sorry, if I'd have known I would have cleaned the place up a little."

Tin-Tin smiled, relieved.

Alan was helped to his feet by Gordon and Tin-Tin, and the three walked back to Thunderbird 3 with Alan's arms around the other two.

"Who's going to man Thunderbird 5?" asked Alan, weakly.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Alan. I think IR is going to be out of action for a while," said Gordon.

"Oh!" said Alan, disappointed. They laid him on the couch in the lounge.

"What the hell did you do to my TBird, Gordon?" he asked. Gordon smiled at him sheepishly, and he quickly fell asleep.

"Keep and eye on him, Tin-Tin," asked Gordon.

"Thank you, Gordon," she replied, and started to clean up Alan's face.

Gordon headed back to the station, and checked that no further damage would be done if they left it. He went to switch the communications to relay to base, but it was totally unserviceable. He sighed as he thought about the space hours he would have to put in fixing Thunderbird 5 up, but his concerns were quickly replaced by his fears for his family back on Tracy Island. He went back to his craft, and tried to contact home. Communications were out. Gordon shook his head with worry, and set a course for home.


	11. The Return

Chapter 11

"Thunderbird 3 from base! Come in! Thunderbird 5 from base. Come in!" Scott tried to communicate with both his watch and the main radio, but could not raise either vessel, nor Alan, Gordon or Tin-Tin individually. He kicked at the wall in frustration, and then stood looking at his father. Grandma was sitting on the bench next to him, talking to him quietly, and occasionally touching his hair while he slept. Kyrano was making coffee in a beaker over a Bunsen burner, and offered some to Scott and Brains.  
"Thanks, Kyrano," said Scott.

"Would you like some, Brains?" asked Kyrano.

Brains did not answer him.

"Brains?" asked Scott.

"Aha!" yelled Brains, and jumped up from his seat. "I have done it!"

"What?" said Scott, narrowing his eyes at the streams of machine-code text that scrolled rapidly down the screen?"

"I have interfaced with the nanobots. However, I do not understand their language, so now I am running it through a translation programme to convert it to my own programming system."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, Scott. In fact, here it is," Brains stammered.

Scott frowned, feeling his ignorance. It made no more sense to him now than it had before. "What does it mean, Brains?" he asked.

"Aha. Uhum. I see. Aha."

"What does it mean, Brains?" said Scott, a little more impatiently than the last time.

"I am looking at their command logs. It seems that they've been given a sort of, flowchart, of things to do."  
"Like what?"  
Brains read for a few minutes. "Well, Scott, it seems that the nanobots are a weapon, produced by a semi-metallic species called the Infiltrators. They attack planets by injecting the populace with the nanobots. The populace then strips the planet of resources, and makes a whole lot more infiltrators. Then they leave, and do it again somewhere else."

"Aliens."

"Yes."  
"Semi-metallic aliens."

"Yes."

"Oh, of course," said Scott.

"Oh dear!" said Brains.  
"What?"

"It seems that their initial aim was to simply target the population and raw materials. They weren't banking on finding our advanced technology. Until now they have only conquered planets with less developed populations and technology, and put them to work extracting all the iron ore. This is a first for them. This is fascinating."

"And the 'oh dear', Brains?"

"They're coming for us. John is building more infiltrators now."

"What's taking them so long?"  
"They seem to be having problems controlling John."

Scott smiled. He knew that there was some semblance of his brother left, and that part would do everything it could to stop the infiltrators. "You said that they were only semi-metallic. Where will they get their other parts from?" asked Scott.  
"From us!" said Brains. "Probably by having the nanobots make proteins out of our blood. That would be the fastest way." He spoke as if this were a science project safely contained in a bell jar.

"Nice. Why didn't they all come down? Why leave just one guy with nanobots in him?"

"It's a waste of resources. They seem to think that this is the most efficient way to conquer a planet. You see, they infect, usually more than one, but some people, and leave them to do the rest."

"So why did they attack Thunderbird 5 twice?" asked Scott, refreshing his fears for Tin-Tin and his brothers safety.

"I don't know, Scott. They don't seem to have any information about that."

"So couldn't we take out these bugs with lasers?"  
"Not really, Scott. A creature made from steel, our weapons could destroy. But a creature made from our most advanced metal alloys would be a problem."

"We have to stop them!"

"I'm working on reprogramming them, but it is going to take time."  
"We don't have time, Brains."

"I know, Scott."

Scott left Brains to work.

* * *

Scott pulled up Virgil's blanket around his shoulders, and hung him another IV from the ceiling. Brains had shown him how when he had done the last one, but his lack of serious medical qualifications worried him. His brother could be lying there dying, and all he knew how to do was hang up drip bags. He made a mental note to ask for more intensive medical training at the next International Rescue meeting. Virgil was pale and sweaty, but seemed to be breathing alright.

Jeff groaned, and without opening his eyes he mumbled and pushed out from himself with his arms and legs.  
Grandma held onto his head. "It's alright, Jeffrey."

Jeff opened his eyes. "Mother? What happened?"

"You got hit on the head."  
"How?"

Grandma looked at Scott. He answered. "John hit you, Dad. Don't you remember."  
"I was hoping it was a dream," said Jeff, and smiled wryly.

"No such luck, I'm afraid. How do you feel?" asked Scott, smiling back.  
"Fine. Just a little bit of a headache!" replied Jeff, but the way he looked at Scott; dreamily and without being able to keep his eyes still; told a different story. Nonetheless, Scott filled him in on developments since he had last been awake.

Kyrano heard a low rumble, and noticed the coffee in his seemingly bottomless pot rippling. "Scott, I think that is Thunderbird 3 returning!" he said, anxiously.

* * *

Gordon landed Thunderbird 3 with a bone-rattling crunch. He called down to the T3 lounge.

"Sorry!" he said. "There's no power. The auto-guidance system isn't working!"

"We're alright, Gordon," said Tin-Tin. "Well, I am."

"On my way down."

Gordon appeared in the elevator in the lounge. He walked up to Alan, lying on the couch, and put his hand on his forehead. "He's really burning up!"

"Maybe we should have taken him to a hospital!"  
"No, he might have the nanobots in him. We can't let that get out. What if he goes crazy-eight bonkers on us too?"

"Oh, Alan!" sobbed Tin-Tin.

"Come on, let's go. I'll carry him, wear this, and keep that gun handy, Tin-Tin." He threw her some night vision glasses, and put some on himself.

"Yes, Gordon."

Gordon picked Alan up into his arms, and they quietly walked out of Thunderbird 3. It was pitch dark, and it took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the eerie green contrast provided by the glasses. Gordon stepped out on to the gantry after Tin-Tin, who was checking around, gun drawn. Alan suddenly started choking.

"Alan? Shit!" Alan had vomited, and the blood-flecked stuff was covering his face, drowning him. Gordon hastily put him down, and rolled him on his side to let it drain from his mouth. He took off his hat and wiped Alan's face with it. Tin-Tin looked very worried, and shed a tear. Gordon knelt with one hand on Alan's waist, keeping him still, and shaking his head.

"Well this isn't good!" he whispered. "Alan, can you hear me?" Alan merely mumbled and screwed up his eyes.

Gordon put his hand on Alan's forehead. "He really is burning up!" he said. He had to wipe his hand on his trousers as it was covered in sweat. Alan looked as if he had had a bucket of water thrown over him. His blonde hair stuck to his ears and face.

"Okay, let's go!" said Gordon, and he and Tin-Tin headed out into the darkness for the lab.

* * *

Tin-Tin rapped on the locked outer laboratory door. Kyrano looked into the closed circuit camera, and opened the door.

"Father!" said Tin-Tin as they entered, and threw her arms around Kyrano, who returned her embrace.

"Alan?" shouted Scott, catching sight of Gordon in the doorway, with Alan in his arms.

Gordon laid Alan on his side at the other end of the bench that Virgil was lying on.

Scott looked him over, and saw the wound on his neck. "That's just like the one John had!" he cried.

"Tin-Tin?" asked Brains, feeling for Alan's pulse.

"Yes, Brains?"

"Can you take a pinprick blood sample from Alan?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. When you have it, I will look at it on the SEM," stammered Brains.


	12. Divided

Chapter 12

Brains sat at the SEM computer, and worked the controls to focus on the blood sample from Alan that Tin-Tin had taken for him. Scott and Gordon stood behind him with bated breath.

"Oh, dear!" said Brains.  
"What is it?" asked Scott.

Brains stood away from the screen to allow the others to see.

"Oh my God!" said Scott, and clasped his hand over his mouth.

"What is it?" asked Jeff. He slowly shuffled over to the screen, holding on to the wall for support as he went.

"Alan has been infected with nanobots, Mr. Tracy."

"Like John?"

"Yes, Mr. Tracy."

"So now he's going to go demented on us too?" asked Gordon, angrily.

"I don't know, Gordon," said Brains. "I need to interface with these nanobots too."

Brains removed the phial from the machine and took it over to the other computer to interface with the new nanobots. This did not take as long as the previous time, as he now knew exactly what he was looking for.

"They have the same information up to a point. But these ones contain more information about Thunderbird 5. The second attack was launched because John was taking too long. That's why they infected Alan!" stammered Brains.

"Can we help Alan?" asked Gordon.

Brains was silent for a few minutes, and Gordon waited for his answer; he could see that Brains was deep in thought.

Finally, he spoke. "I have reprogrammed these nanobots to destroy the others. Once they are all deactivated, they will self-destruct," said Brains.

"So we can give them to John?" asked Gordon, with his arms folded.

"I don't know if it will work. They could make it worse!" stuttered Brains.

"How could it possibly get any worse?" asked Gordon.

"For all I know, this could kill John. I have no way of testing it. Give me some time, and I might be able to run some simulations."

"Alright, Brains," said Gordon, and smiled at him.

* * *

Virgil groaned as he woke up. Scott ran over to him.

"Are you okay, Virg?" he said, putting his arm on Virgil's shoulder.

Virgil flinched. "I'm okay," he said. "But that isn't helping."

"Sorry!" said Scott, and took his arm away.

"Any news?" asked Virgil. He seemed to be holding his breath in between speaking, and his jaw whitened as he clenched it, tightly.

"Are you in pain?" asked Scott, concerned.

Virgil exhaled almost explosively. "I've been shot. Twice! What do you think?" he growled.

"I'm sorry Virg. Brains? Can we get him any pain relief?"

"I'm afraid not, Scott. We only grabbed a few medical supplies when we left the sickroom," replied Brains.

"I'll be okay," said Virgil, through gritted teeth. A tear rolled down his dirty face, and his hands shook with pain and concentration.

Scott ruffled Virgil's hair, and winked at him.

Virgil smiled, weakly. He looked over at Jeff. "How is he?"

"I think he's okay." Jeff was conscious, and was sitting on the floor next to his mother with his back against the wall.

"What about Alan?" asked Virgil.

Scott looked over at his youngest brother. Tin-Tin was holding his hand. Alan was deathly pale, and shaking uncontrollably.

"Brains!" cried Tin-Tin. "He's stopped shaking!"

Alan's arm hand gone limp, and Tin-Tin was holding it to her. Brains strode over to check on him, and Tin-Tin had to be extricated from him by Kyrano. Brains felt for a pulse, and found Alan no longer sweating. His skin was mottled and dry. Scott shook his head at the amount of time Brains was taking to find Alan's pulse.

"I have a pulse!" said Brains. "But it's very weak." He leaned over Alan and held his ear over Alan's face, with his hand on his chest. "He's barely breathing!" he stammered. "I think that the fever and other symptoms are an immune response- Alan's system is attacking the nanobots!"

"What do we do, Brains?" asked Scott.

"He needs some advanced life support, or he'll die!" stuttered Brains.

"What do we do?" said Scott. Brains simply looked back at him, open mouthed. Scott stared for a few seconds at everyone in the room in turn, as if asking for advice. Finally, his eyes fixed on his father.

Jeff hauled himself up the wall, stood, straightened himself, and tugged at his pullover to neaten his demeanour.

"Take Alan and Virgil to the sickroom!" announced Jeff.

"But, Father, what about John?" asked Gordon.

"John is trying to get here to take control of the power grid, is he not, Brains?"

"I think so, Mr. Tracy," said Brains.

"You see," he said, pointing to the handheld canner. "John's still busy in the Thunderbird 1 hangar. You can help Alan out, give Virgil some painkillers, and work on your nanobots if you take the computer with you."

"But John will come here?"

"I know. I'll stay here."  
"But you need medical attention too, Father!" said Scott.

"Somebody has to stay here," Jeff replied, and leaned against the bench for support as he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

"He's not breathing!" hollered Brains, and he rolled Alan onto his back. "Scott!" Brains stammered, and Scott joined him. Brains knelt up on the bench, and with all his might bashed on Alan's chest with his fist. Scott sealed his lips over his brother's mouth and breathed into him. He stopped while Brains punched Alan's chest again. "I have a pulse!" he announced and Scott confirmed that Alan was breathing on his own, though shallowly.

"Take him to the sickroom!" ordered Jeff.

"But, Father!" protested Scott.  
"No time to argue, Scott. You take Alan, Gordon, take Virgil. Tin-Tin, Mother, Kyrano, you go too."

Scott swallowed and nodded. Brains picked up the tower unit of his computer and unplugged it. Tin-Tin took the phial and a few other pieces of equipment and put them in a box.

"I'll unlock the doors between here and the sickroom. Call back as you go through each one and I'll lock it behind you." Jeff staggered. Scott had to stop himself from grabbing his father and holding him upright. He knew he would not want that. "Kyrano, you-"  
"I will stay with you, Mr. Tracy," said Kyrano.

Jeff was about to argue with him, but the loving look in Kyrano's eyes told him that it would be pointless to do so.

"I thought communications were out!" said Grandma Tracy.  
"Only communications via the satellite, Mother."

"Are you going to be okay, Jeff?" she asked quietly so that only he could hear her.

"I'll be fine, Mom. Just take care of those boys." Jeff kissed her on the cheek, and then took up position by the power management computer.

"Go!" he said. They left. Jeff sank into the chair by the computer.

"Kyrano?" he said.  
"Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

"Arm yourself."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy."

"Now, we wait."


	13. Fighting for Alan

Chapter 13

The others arrived in the sickroom. Gordon dropped Virgil onto the bed, and he cried out in agony. Brains set his computer down.  
"Tin-Tin, give Virgil 10 mg morphine IM, please," said Brains.

"Yes, Brains," she said, and set about her work. Virgil was soon more comfortable.

Scott laid Alan on another bed, and locked the doors tightly. He pulled the curtains across it, and called Jeff to tell him they were in. Brains was busy setting up the computer, and Scott took Alan's hand.

"Brains!" he yelled, and his urgent tone brought Brains running over. He felt for his pulse, and found a weak one, but Alan was hardly breathing.  
"I need to intubate him!" said Brains, and set about doing it.  
Scott rolled his shoulders up and down, beside himself with worry at the familiarity of the situation. He was trying not to allow himself to think that he was about to watch Alan die, too. He breathed relief as Alan's chest started to rise more after Brains had connected Alan to the oxygen support machine.  
"Brains?" said Scott.  
"The mark on his neck! It's gone!"

"The nanobots must be winning against his immune system!" stammered Brains.

"So they'll fix him?"

"I don't know, Scott. Maybe it was our defibrillating John that let the nanobots take over!" fumbled Brains.

"What do you mean you don't know! We are not letting him die here!" Scott grabbed hold of Brains' lapels, but let go again immediately. "I'm sorry, Brains. I'm really sorry."

"That's okay, Scott," said Brains, and patted Scott's shoulder.

Tin-Tin took up position next to Alan's head and started talking to him, quietly.

"How are you going with those new nanobots, Brains?" asked Gordon.

"I managed to run a simulation before we left the lab, Gordon, but I still don't know." He spoke as he connected Alan to the monitors, taking care to plug everything into the red sockets- this was the emergency generator for the sickroom in case of power failure. Switching all the machines on caused the lights to dim slightly. The sound of the beeping of Alan's rapid heartbeat filled the room. Brains went back to his computer.

* * *

An hour later, Virgil started to moan again. The morphine was wearing off, and Brains went to give him some more.

"Brains, I can't feel my leg!" said Virgil.

"Not at all?" stammered Brains.

"A little. It's like pins and needles."

"The bullet must be pressing on a nerve. Just try and lie still. I'm sure it's fine."

Virgil got his morphine and laid back on his bed.

Scott took Brains aside. "Is he really okay?"

"I can't tell, Scott. It might be pressing on an artery for all I know. He needs surgery."

"Fantastic!" said Scott, sardonically. "Can't you fix it?"

"I'm not a doctor, Scott."

"No, I'm sorry, Brains. It seems that Gordon does all the getting wet, Tin-Tin and Virgil do engineering, Dad and I do command, and you do absolutely everything else. And you do it well."

"Not really, Scott." Brains was still working away at his keyboard. He paused and looked over at his phial of reprogrammed nanobots. "I didn't-"

He was interrupted by the sound of the heart monitor changing pitch.

"VF!" he shouted, and jumped up.

"Ah, crap!" yelled Gordon, and came to join them.

"Alan! Alan!" said Tin-Tin into Alan's ear. "Come on, Alan!"

The machine's pitch changed again.  
"Asystole!" yelled Brains, and disconnected the oxygen support machine. Scott took over automatically with the ambu-bag and began squeezing it. "This isn't funny, Alan!" he said. "stop fooling around!"

Brains punched Alan's chest several times while Tin-Tin sobbed at the head of the bed. He cut Alan's shirt open with scissors, and reached for the defibrillator, which made a familiar sound.  
"Charging."

It whistled as it built up charge.

"Clear!" said the machine. Everyone stood back as the shock jolted Alan's body.

"Asystole!" shouted Brains again. Several attempts to resuscitate Alan failed.

"Brains, give him the new nanobots!" said Scott.

"But, Scott, I don't know if that will help him or hurt him!" stammered Brains.

"I don't see how we have a choice. Either we do that or wait for the ones that are in him to take over. And then we have two Johns on our hands!"

"But-"

"Just do it, Brains, please!" cried Gordon. Brains nodded and Gordon took over CPR while Brains drew up some of the solution in his phial with the modified nanobots into a syringe. He struggled to find a vein in Alan's hand to insert a cannula. When he did, he injected the solution into Alan's hand. Everyone stopped giving CPR.  
"What now?" asked Scott.

"Continue CPR!" said Brains. "The new nanobots will destroy the others, but I have removed their ability to heal him. Continue CPR!"

Scott and Gordon did as they were asked. They paused after a while and checked for a pulse.

"Asystole!" said Brains.

"Why isn't it working?" asked Gordon.

"I don't know, Gordon. It might take more time, he might need a higher dose. I don't know!" Brains injected Alan with lidocaine, and took hold of the defibrillator paddles again.  
"Charging."

"Clear."

Alan's body jolted again.

"Sinus tachycardia!" cried Brains, as the continuous sound from the heart monitor changed to a rapid on-and-off beeping.

"I think he's making a respiratory effort, Brains!" said Tin-Tin, still sobbing.  
"Reconnect the oxygen machine, Scott," asked Brains, stammering.

"Is he okay?" asked Gordon.

"He's alive, Gordon," said Brains.

* * *

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Tracy?" asked Kyrano. He had been brewing away again, over a Bunsen flame.  
"No thanks, Kyrano," said Jeff. "Hey, where did you get the coffee from? Brains doesn't keep any in the lab."

"I always have coffee, Mr. Tracy."  
"So I see. You know you-" Jeff was interrupted by a call from his wristcomm.

"Father! Alan went downhill pretty fast but we think we've stabilised him!"

"Good job! How is he?"

"We don't know yet. Brains gave him the modified nanobots; we'll have to wait and see."

"Better restrain him, just in case."

"Yes, Father."

"Keep me posted." Scott did as he had been asked and signed off.

Kyrano smiled at Jeff when he looked at him. Jeff was torn from his moment of silent contemplation by a buzzing sound from the handheld device. He picked it up and moved it closer to and away from his face as he tried to focus on it. It showed a great mass of electrical field signals in the Thunderbird 1 hangar. There were only 5 bulkheads between the lab and the hangar.


	14. A Second Farewell

Chapter 14

John Tracy pressed himself into the forefront of his consciousness with all his might. He fought for vision, and saw an image that terrified him as the memories of what he had done returned. He had been shearing lumps of metal off the launch platform for Thunderbird 1 with a laser grinder, and forming figure-eight building blocks. This was no easy task, and he was covered in soot and his shirt was holed like a net where lumps of smouldering metal had melted through. The skin underneath was perfectly healed. In front of him were a group of creatures. Perhaps as many as ten mechanical spiders with insect-like heads lay before him, composed of the same shimmering blue metal as Thunderbird 1; the Infiltrators. John had bitten a hole in one of his fingers to allow some nanobots to surge onto the metal, replicate, and form new Infiltrators. They seemed to be breathing; rising up and down on their mechanical legs, and listing from side to side. The eight appendages each creature had looked like they were made from motorcycle chain; the pieces that John had been making. He was weakened; the nanobots had used the components from his blood to create the biological parts of the Infiltrators, and had not quite replaced as much as he had lost. John's mind cried out in pain as he was bombarded by electronic thoughts. The creatures could hear him, and he them. John's body knelt down and one of the Infiltrators scuttled over to him. It climbed onto his chest, and drove a probe into his neck. He felt a curious, cold sensation surge around his body as it was filled with more nanobots to replace those he had given to form more Infiltrators. His body grabbed a pistol, and set off toward the corridor leading to the Thunderbird 2 hangar and Brains' laboratory, following behind the Infiltrators. The barrage of commands began again. The sentience in his veins was forcing him once more into the corner, and this time he felt as though he were being crushed; like he was in a room where the walls were coming in and he was powerless to stop them. He hoped he was headed for Thunderbird 2, but recoiled in horror as he headed for the corridor as he was finally pushed back into his metal cell.

* * *

"Kyrano! They're cutting their way in!" Jeff held up his handheld device to see about a dozen life signs crowded into the corridor space behind bulkhead 4. "They're coming fast!" He turned to his watch. "Scott! John's on his way in. And he's got company!"

"We're on our way, Father!"

"FAB, Scott!"

Jeff looked over at his comrade. "Kyrano! Get ready!"

"Ready, Mr. Tracy!"

Jeff himself picked up a machinegun and two pistols, and took position with Kyrano behind one of the benches. As they lay in wait, one of the control panels exploded in a shower of sparks behind them.  
"The security system!" He looked at his watch again. "Scott, we can't open any of the doors!"

"We'll get to you, Father!"

Jeff looked at the device again. They were now 2 bulkheads away, and he and Kyrano could here the sound of laser cutters coming from the door. In only a few moments, they could see the metal on their side of the final bulkhead door turning red, and then disintegrating. When the hole was about eight inches in diameter, several spider-like creatures flew through it. They landed only a few feet from Kyrano and Jeff, who immediately began shooting at them. Jeff succeeded in causing some damage, but it seemed only to slow them down, and not stop them. Kyrano focussed his beam, and managed to char the creature's legs. More were coming through the hole. In a flash, Jeff had a moment of mental clarity through the dizziness and nausea caused by his ever worsening head injury. He remembered what Brains had said that the nanobots would do; have John create more Infiltrators. And he recognised the pearlescent blue metal they were made of. Normal gunfire was not going to destroy the alloy they had used to build Thunderbird 1. He looked around frantically for something to use. He found a blowtorch, and lit it. He turned up the gas and found himself equipped with a flame thrower, about six feet in length. The creatures appeared only slightly damaged by it, but fearful nonetheless. Jeff waved it in an arc around himself and Kyrano to keep them at bay.

Suddenly, a hail of gunfire came through the hole in the door. A bullet grazed Jeff's arm, and he dropped his flame thrower. In a flash the nozzle was extinguished by the Infiltrators, and pulled from his reach. He backed into a corner, pushing Kyrano behind him. His mind raced, thinking about what else he could use. One of the creatures jumped up at his chest, and threw him to the ground. Another jumped for Kyrano. Both men fell to the ground, and the creatures pawed at them, trying to get to their necks."Don't let them do it, Kyrano!" cried Jeff. As his arms flailed about him, one struck a dewar, and he had an idea. He reached up and pulled on the handle. The lid immediately fell off, and liquid nitrogen poured onto the creature. It was instantly frozen, and Jeff managed to roll away to the side before much could spill onto him. One of his hands was a little burnt. He kicked the creature, and it shattered. He pulled on the dewar and did the same to Kyrano, who he then lifted up onto the bench. Jeff stayed on the floor. The rest of the creatures came closer, and Jeff did not notice that the hole in the door was getting bigger. When the creatures were at his feet, about to pounce, in a single, agile move, Jeff lifted himself up onto the bench, and threw over two dewars of liquid nitrogen. A cloud of mist quickly filled the room, and all the creatures froze to the spot. Jeff paused for a few seconds, and heard a faint, crisp, tinkling sound as his breath froze in the air and the resulting ice clattered to the ground. He pulled a fire axe from the wall and began striking out at the creatures, shattering their frozen bodies, although they were now rather difficult to see. He was confident he had killed all of them, when the mist began to clear. The exertion had been tough on Jeff, and he slid down to his knees onto the floor, clutching at his head which had begun to bleed profusely again. For a few moments he had no touch with reality.

Kyrano jumped down from the bench to help Jeff. But as he did, the mist had cleared enough for him to find himself looking across the room at John Tracy. He smiled wickedly, and headed for the power grid controls. Seeing Jeff, incapacitated, Kyrano followed John across the room. He did not react. As Kyrano approached, John had both hands on the control panel. Without looking, John swiftly brought up his forearm to make contact with Kyrano's face. Kyrano was thrown across the room.

Jeff came back to his senses to see his friend lying dazed at the opposite end of the room. He saw his son at the power controls, and as his vision shifted in and out of focus, he saw that he was trying to override the security lockouts Brains had placed on the system. Jeff rose, and crept towards him. John did not react. Jeff found his pistol and held it in front of him, his arm shaking.

"Stop it, John!" he said.

John gave no reaction.  
"I said stop it. I can't let you do that, John." Jeff fired a warning shot. Still there was no reaction. Jeff began to cry. "I love you, son!"  
Kyrano ran at John again, and was again tossed across the room. When he got up this time, John drew his gun and shot him in the shoulder. Kyrano stopped in his tracks, and looked over at Jeff. He took another step, and John aimed at him again.  
Jeff fired his own gun, and caught John in the upper leg. Now John turned to face Jeff. He took aim at his father.

"I'm sorry, John! Forgive me!" cried Jeff, and squeezed the trigger again. He struck John in the chest, but it did not stop him. A full-scale firefight ensued. Jeff was struck in the arm and shoulder. John was shot several more times in the chest, but carried on fighting like it was a mere scratch. Jeff stood a final time, with tears streaming down his bloodstained face, and emptied the rest of his magazine in John's direction. Both men fell. Jeff clutched at his arm and felt a hot bullet in his bicep.

When the gun smoke cleared, John was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Jeff crawled over to him. His chest had four bullet wounds, and his abdomen had also been hit several times. Jeff went to lift his head, but he was so slippery with blood that Jeff couldn't manage it.

"Dad?" said John, almost too quietly to hear.

"John? Is that you?" said Jeff, frantically.

"Thank you, Father!" said John, and his head lulled to one side. His eyes were still open, but he breathed no more.

"Not again! Not again! John! Speak to me!" Jeff screamed and slapped John's face. "Speak to me, boy!" he said, quietly. "Speak to me!"


	15. Medevac

Chapter 15

"Dad?" said Scott. He and Gordon entered the smoky laboratory, and waved their hands in front of them to clear the air. They put their cutting tools down, and noticed the hole in the door opposite.  
"Hey, that's just like the stuff we found on Thunderbird 5!" said Gordon, as his feet crunched on the debris from the dead Infiltrators.

"Ssh!" said Scott. He rounded the corner and found his father, sobbing, over the pale, blood-soaked body of John.  
"Oh my God! Dad!" said Scott, and bent to put his arm around Jeff. Gordon checked John's neck for a pulse, and shook his head at Scott.

"Brains! John's down!" said Gordon into his watch.  
"I'll be right there!" was his reply.

"Kyrano!" cried Gordon, as he spied the fabric from his coat under one of the benches. "Are you okay?" Gordon bent down and lifted his upper body.

"Thankyou, Gordon. I am fine. Your father needs your assistance."

"Scott's with him."

Brains and Tin-Tin entered.

"Father!" she cried, and knelt down next to him, kissing his face.

"I am fine, Tin-Tin," he said, in the same calm, quiet voice he always had.

"My God!" yelled Brains as he surveyed the scene. "Is-"

Scott shook his head, and Brains hung his. Then his scientific mind took over. He went over to Kyrano, and looked at his neck. There was no wound.  
"Can you make it to the sickroom, Kyrano?" asked Brains.  
"Are there any more of those things around, Brains?" asked Gordon.

"No, Gordon. They would show on the scanner if there were any more on the island."

"What about the nanobots?" asked Gordon.

"Let's get everyone to the sickroom, and I'll run some tests," stammered Brains.

"I'll help him," said Tin-Tin, and she and Kyrano set off.

"Mr. Tracy, are you alright?" asked Brains, bending over him.

"I don't know, Brains."

"Come on, Dad, let's get you to the sickroom," said Scott.

"I'm not leaving John."  
"He's dead, Father," said Scott.

"I'm not losing my son twice in as many days. I'm just not!" said Jeff indignantly. "I'm just not." As he spoke, his voice became quiet and incoherent, and Gordon caught him before he collapsed completely to the floor.

"Dad! Dad!" called Gordon, and shook him. "He's out cold!" he said, and lifted him over his shoulder.  
Scott looked at Brains. "What shall we do about John?" he asked.

"Can you carry him?"

"I guess so."

"Then bring him too. But put him in the operating room, would you?"

"Why?"

"I need to check him for nanobots."

Scott nodded and complied, and the four men, and John, left for the sickroom.

* * *

Brains started to work on Jeff, and Tin-Tin bandaged her father's shoulder wound. When she had finished, she resumed her vigil at Alan's side. She was surprised to find him lying with his eyes open.

"Alan! You're awake!"

He spluttered and his lips shook.

Tin-Tin planted a kiss on his forehead, and Alan blushed inside, though from his extreme pallor, it was not visible.

Brains stepped over. "When I say, blow out hard, Alan. Do you understand?"  
Alan nodded, and when he blew out, Brains pulled out his breathing tube. Alan coughed and spluttered, weakly, and Tin-Tin held his hand.  
"That was so nasty!" whispered Alan, and Brains hooked up an oxygen line to his nostrils.

"Are you alright, Alan?" asked Tin-Tin.

"Oh, never felt better!" he whispered, wheezing. "Tin-Tin, I- " He smiled and closed his eyes. His blonde hair looked dark against his pale skin. He fell asleep, and Tin-Tin stroked his arm, gently.

Brains took a needle and pricked Alan's finger. He squeezed it onto a microscope slide, which he covered and placed in a glass box. He threw the needle into the sharps bin, and then went to do the same operation on Jeff. He was mumbling quietly, filling his oxygen mask with condensation. Brains further took blood from Virgil, Tin-Tin, Scott, Gordon, Kyrano, Grandma, and finally himself.

"Why us, Brains?" asked Scott. "They didn't get anywhere near us!"

"I'm not taking any chances, Scott!" stammered Brains. "I need to run these on the SEM in the lab."  
"I'll help you!" said Scott, and the two departed.

* * *

Brains pored over his equipment for several minutes, and then rose to look at Scott. He smiled.

"Out with it, Brains!"

"Everyone is negative."  
"Everyone?"  
"Except Alan."  
"Oh, Lord!"

"I think it's okay, Scott. I think that they're my nanobots. I'll check it out though."

"What about John?"

"Back to the sickroom. I left my equipment up there. I'll analyse Alan's first, and then we'll get to John," stammered Brains.

Scott and Brains went back to the sickroom to announce the good news.

* * *

Brains drew a blood sample from Alan's arm, and placed a phial of it into the computer interface apparatus. Scott stood behind him with his hand on his chin.  
"Yes, it's all my code!" said Brains, relieved.

"Does that mean he'll be okay?" asked Scott.

"I'll give him another dose to make sure. But I think so, Scott!"

"Woot!" said Scott, and punched the air with his broken arm. He winced.

"Brains!" said Grandma. "Look at this!"

Brains and Scott went over and looked at Jeff. Blood and clear fluid was leaking from his ear. Brains rushed away and returned momentarily with a penlight. Silence reigned as he carefully opened each of Jeff's eyes and shone his light into each in turn.

"His pupils are unequal!" said Brains, nervously.  
"What does that mean, Brains?" asked Grandma.

"It isn't good news, Mrs. Tracy. Mr. Tracy has a serious head injury." Replied Brains, stumbling over his words.

Grandma sniffed, but otherwise remained stoic.

"Can you help him, Brains?" asked Scott, pulling him to one side.  
"Like I say, Scott, I'm not a doctor."  
"Can we call the doctor?"  
"I think that with the Infiltrator threat dealt with, we can, yes."  
Gordon jumped up. "We'll need a cover story, Scott!"

"Pirates!" said Scott.

"Pirates?" asked Gordon in disbelief.  
"You bet your ass!" said Scott. "Several gunshot wounds, head injuries, etc etc. A fight with pirates!"

Gordon snickered. "Will he buy that?"

"He'll have to!" said Scott.

Another sound from Grandma brought Brains to check Jeff again. He frowned. "He's getting worse, Scott. I don't think we can wait for the doctor. We can take him to Auckland," stammered Brains.

"How?" asked Gordon.

"In Dad's jet!" said Scott.

"So we take Virgil, Dad, Kyrano and Alan."

"Right!" said Scott. "And I guess Tin-Tin and Grandma will want to go."  
"What about John?" asked Gordon.

"I'll take care of him here, if I can," said Brains, sadly.

"I'll stay too," said Gordon, touching Brains' arm.

"Who's going to fly the plane?" asked Scott, holding up his plaster cast.

"I will," said Tin-Tin.

"Can you handle it, Tin-Tin?" asked Scott.

"With both eyes shut!" she said, and glared at Scott; he knew very well what an experienced pilot she was.

"Okay, get ready, everyone!" said Scott.  
Tin-Tin hurried to the jet, and carried out pre-flight checks. Kyrano, walking wounded, was helped to the plane with Grandma holding his hand. Gordon and Brains stretchered Virgil aboard, and helped Tin-Tin to remove some of the seats to fix it to the wall. Alan was taken next. Scott waited with Jeff for them to return. He took his father's hand.

* * *

When Brains and Gordon returned, they found Scott struggling to release Jeff's grip on him. Jeff had tensed all of his muscles and was squeezing Scott's hand very tightly. Brains gently squeezed Jeff's wrist and his fingers relaxed long enough for Scott to get free. He looked at Scott gravely.  
"I'll call Auckland ahead of you. Waste no time, Scott!" he said.

Scott nodded, and held on to the edge of the stretcher while Gordon and Brains put his father on it, although this action served no useful purpose. They laid him on his side, and more liquid ran out of his ear. Scott closed his eyes and breathed out, and then followed as Brains and Gordon took him to the plane.

"Tin-Tin, as fast as you can!" yelled Scott as he pulled the cabin door closed. The giraffe automatically drove itself away, and Tin-Tin taxied to the runway. Scott crossed his fingers as the whirring of the jet engines built up to a climax and they hurtled along the runway and into the sky.


	16. Wait and See

Chapter 16

Brains came back into the sickroom, where Gordon was sitting on one of the beds, swinging his legs idly.

"I've called ahead to the hospital. They're expecting them. And Tin-Tin is making good time," stuttered Brains.

"Godspeed," whispered Gordon. "Do you think Dad's going to be okay?" he asked.

"He'll be in good hands, Gordon."

Gordon sighed. That was a little noncommittal, even for Brains.

Brains beckoned Gordon to accompany him into the operating room.

John was laid out on the table. His arms were flopped down either side of it, and his skin was almost blue. His veins stuck out markedly from his skin, especially the ones on his face. They looked like grisly tattoos. His eyes were open and looking to one side. Gordon shed a tear, and gently closed John's eyes. He was expecting Brains to cover him with a white sheet or something. Instead he was looking carefully at John's injuries, and checking his wrist for a pulse.

"What are you doing, Brains?" asked Gordon.

"The edges of these wounds are beginning to heal. And he has a pulse. Sort of!"

"But he's dead!"

"Technically, yes!" said Brains.  
"What do you mean, 'technically?' Is he dead or isn't he?"

"He is dead, but his blood contains the nanobots, which are still carrying out his autonomic functions at a cellular level. So they may be capable of repairing him!"

"But then he'll try and kill us again!"

"Not if we wait for him to heal, and then give him the reprogrammed nanobots."  
"Let me get this straight. You can rebuild him?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"So he'll be okay?"

"I don't know, Gordon. Actually, I suspect some brain damage. I think John had the seizures because the creatures were rewiring his brain. They didn't have the greatest success, because they did not succeed in fully suppressing John's consciousness. The brain is a delicate organ. I suspect that while they might be able to repair much of the rest of him, they will not be able to repair his brain completely, or more importantly, his mind."

"How bad is it going to be?"

"I don't know that either."

"Oh," said Gordon. He jumped up onto the work surface next to the trolley. "Come on, John. You can fight this, buddy."

* * *

"Hurry, Tin-Tin!" said Scott. He was sitting across the aisle from his father, behind Grandma. Jeff was shaking and foaming at the mouth. Now his nose was bleeding, too, and it filled his oxygen mask with droplets of blood. Scott put his hand on Grandma's, and then stood to roll Jeff onto his side. He almost immediately started to fit. Scott had to let go of him. 

"ETA, Tin-Tin!" hollered Scott down the cabin.

"Eight minutes, Scott. There'll be three ambulances waiting for us when we touch down!" she replied.

"Hold on, Dad!" he whispered. He looked over at Grandma and she smiled at him.

* * *

Holding onto Jeff, Scott failed to put on his seatbelt for landing and fell over when the jet touched down. Tin-Tin taxied to the private terminal and Scott rushed to open the door. There was a giraffe already outside, and several paramedics rushed in. Scott was pushed aside, and the paramedics were terse as they hastily went about their duties. 

"Name!" said one of the paramedics. "This one!" she said, pointing at Jeff when Scott stared at him blankly.

"Jeff. Jeff Tracy."  
"History?"

"Shot and beaten by pirates."  
"We don't have time to dick around!"

"No, seriously. It was pirates."

"Right," said the paramedic, not really believing him, but not caring, either.   
"Medical conditions, allergies?"

"None."

The paramedic nodded to her colleagues. They removed Jeff's stretcher and took him down to a waiting ambulance. "Good to go!" she yelled from the top of the giraffe.

"Wait!" said Scott. "Grandma, you go with him."

The paramedic asked the truck to wait for Grandma, and they sped off.

"This one?" said the paramedic, pointing at Virgil.

"I can talk," said Virgil.

"You are?"

"Virgil Tracy."

"History?"

"Shot by-"

"Pirates. Yeah." She was scribbling on her rubber glove with a ball pen. There were more medics on the giraffe waiting to take Virgil. But the paramedic in charge had them put Virgil in their truck, and come back for Kyrano.  
"You are?"

"Kyrano. I too was shot by pirates, ma'am."

"Just Kyrano?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Right, take this one too."

Kyrano was helped into a chair which the medics slid down the steps of the giraffe. Then Scott heard their ambulance go too.

Alan was semi-conscious.

"And this one?" said the paramedic.

"Alan Tracy!" said Scott.

"You all related?" the woman asked, looking around at Tin-Tin and Scott.  
"No," said Scott taciturnly.

"This one got by pirates too?"

"Yes."  
"But where is his bullet wound?"

Scott thought fast. "They didn't shoot him. He just got hit in the head."

"By pirates."

"Yeah."

"Okay," she called to her one remaining colleague. "Let's go." She and the other woman unhooked Alan's stretcher and offloaded him. Scott and Tin-Tin waited at the top.

"Are you coming?" said the first woman.

Tin-Tin and Scott went down to the ambulance. There was only room for one of them in the back with Alan, so Scott stayed with Alan, and Tin-Tin rode in the cab.

* * *

At the hospital, Scott barely had a chance to see his father before he was rushed to surgery.  
"He has a bleed in his brain," said the doctor, gravely. "We'll do everything we can." 

Scott nodded and shook his hand. He shook himself, and went to see Alan.

"He'll be fine, Mr. Tracy," said a senior nurse. "It looks like he's getting over some sort of infection, but he'll get the treatment he needs. We'll get him up to the ward shortly, and he should be right as rain in a couple of weeks." Scott reassured himself; Alan had pinked up a little already. He had oxygen on him, and various drips, but he did look better, like he was sleeping as opposed to dying. The relief about Alan's condition served to distract him a little from his concern for his father.

* * *

He walked across the department to the trauma unit. Virgil was in a bed, holding a long wire in his hand. He had large dressings on his injured arm and leg, drips in both arms, and an oxygen line on his nose. He certainly seemed happier than before. Scott sat down in a chair next to his bed.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at Virgil's fist.  
"It's a PA machine!" said Virgil, nodding at the machine to which the wire was connected.

"Eh?" said Scott.

"When it hurts, I press this button, and – aaah!" he sighed. He pushed the button and a cool stream of morphine climbed up his arm. His eyes misted.

"Go easy on that stuff, Virg!" joked Scott.

Virgil's smile faded. "How are the others?"

"Alan seems okay. I haven't seem Kyrano yet."

"And Father?"

"They're doing everything they can."

"You'd better call Gordon."  
"Yeah. But I thought I'd wait until I had better news."

"He'd want to know, Scott."  
"Yeah, I know."

"You should- oh."

"What?"

"Sorry, nothing."

"No, come on!" said Scott.

Virgil sighed. "I was just about to tell you to call John."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Like I say, easy on that stuff!" said Scott, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you feeling okay, otherwise?"  
"Yeah, pretty good! I'm just waiting to go to theatre."  
Scott stood up as a doctor and two nurses came into the cubicle. Virgil smiled at Scott and used his eyes to point to a beautiful, petite brunette nurse. Scott chuckled and shook his head.

"They're ready for you in theatre, Mr. Tracy," she said, and smiled.

"You sure like this Mr. Tracy stuff!" said Scott, and looked glum once again as the comment reminded him of his father.

"See you in a couple of hours, Scott!" Virgil waved as they pushed his trolley away, leaving Scott in an empty room.

* * *

Scott went to Kyrano's cubicle to find that he had already gone to theatre. Tin-Tin was sitting in the cubicle, dozing in a chair. Scott was about to turn and leave when she woke up.

"Scott?"

"Hi, Tin-Tin."  
"How is everybody?"  
"Alan's okay, and they've finished working on him for the time being. He'll be going up to the ward soon. I'm sure he would love for you to sit with him."  
"Thanks, Scott."  
"And Virgil has just gone to theatre."  
"And your father?"

"We'll have to wait and see. I'm sure he'll be fine, Tin-Tin."

"He will be fine, Scott. You'll see."

Tin-Tin went off to Alan's cubicle, and Scott went to tell Gordon and Brains the news.


	17. Waiting Game

Chapter 17

Gordon looked on, feeling totally helpless, as Brains set to work on John.

"Unfortunately, we have to do everything we can to help John while the infiltrator nanobots are repairing them."  
"Won't that help them take him over again?"  
"Yes," stammered Brains. "But it will also mean he recovers faster, and maybe even better, so that we can administer our nanobots."

"Okay," said Gordon, though he did not really understand the ins and outs of it. To him, John looked just as dead now as he had three hours ago.

"I wonder how Dad's doing."

"Scott said he would call when there was news, Gordon."

"Yeah, Brains. I know."

Brains had hooked up John to every life support system they had- fluids, oxygen, all kinds of monitors, and stood back as if to admire his work. Gordon looked at him, as if asking for results. Brains pulled back the cover to reveal John's pasty chest. To Gordon's utter astonishment, the bullet wounds were gone, replaced by large, weeping red sores. These were serious injuries perhaps, but certainly an improvement on the peppered gunshot wounds. John still looked very ill, though his lips were now more white than blue.

"Is he okay, Brains?" asked Gordon.

The heart monitor started up.

"He's alive, Gordon."

Brains drew up a very large syringe and walked over to John with it.

"What's that?"  
"Coded nanobots."

"You're going to kill the ones that are healing him, now?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you wait until they have put him back to normal?" asked Gordon.

"Because then it may be impossible for my nanobots to defeat them. Now that they are all occupied with John, it will be easier for mine to defeat the infiltrator nanobots," stammered Brains.

Gordon nodded, and Brains slowly emptied the syringe into the port on John's hand.

"Nothing's happening!" said Gordon.

"We have to wait," said Brains.

"Sorry, Brains. I'm not very good at waiting."

* * *

"Mr. Tracy?" said a voice. Scott was waiting by Virgil, sleeping in recovery, and he unconsciously looked behind him for his father for a moment, before realising that the voice was addressing him.  
"Yes?"

The tall doctor, dressed in red scrubs with a mask dangling from his neck strode over to Scott, and spoke to him in a low voice.  
"Your father is Jeff Tracy?"

"Yes."

"I'm Dr. Liu, I performed your father's neurosurgery," said the doctor in a broad New Zealand brogue.

Scott shook his hand. "Thank you for seeing me."  
The doctor nodded. "He had a depressed skull fracture, and a subarachnoid haemorrhage. The surgery went well,-"

Scott cut him off. "So he's okay?"

"He's on his way to intensive care, Mr. Tracy. We did all he could, now it's up to him. It's a waiting game, I'm afraid."

Scott clenched his fist. "Always with the waiting!" he growled.

"Are you alright, Mr. Tracy? You look tired.""I'm sorry, doctor, its just with all the, pirates, and all, it's been a tough couple of days."  
"Yes, someone told me that there were pirates involved. I thought it was a joke. I'm sorry. Were you at sea?"  
"No, we live on an island."  
"I see." The doctor raised each of his eyebrows in turn.

"Be straight with me please, doctor. What are my father's chances?"  
The doctor smiled, stretching his lips into a thin line. "We relieved the immediate problem, but we don't know how much damage had already been done. He could make a full recovery," said the doctor.

"But?" said Scott.

"He might never wake up. And at the moment, it could go either way."

Scott shook the doctor's hand again. "Thank you again, doctor."  
"That's alright, Mr. Tracy."

The doctor left, and Scott decided to get some air while he let the news sink in. He walked out of the front doors to the ambulance bay, and lit a cigarette from his pocket. He sat down on a bench and dragged on the cigarette deeply. It did make him feel a little better. He finished it quickly and sat still with his elbows resting on his knees.

* * *

He was joined after three more cigarettes by Tin-Tin.

"Hello, Scott," she said. "Are you alright?"  
"Sure, Tin-Tin. How are you?"

"Can I have a cigarette?"

Scott flipped open his cigarette case and offered it to her. She took one and placed it in her mouth to hold it to the lighter that Scott held for her. She breathed in deeply for a few minutes, and Scott did not interrupt until she had finished.

"How's your father?" asked Scott.

"He's fine. He came out of surgery alright, he's just sleeping off his anaesthetic."

"Yeah?"

"They say if he feel's okay he can go home tomorrow."

"Home, huh? What's left of it."  
"Come on, Scott, we can fix the place up in no time!"  
"That's not what I mean, Tin-Tin."  
"Oh," she said, forlornly. "How's your father?" she said tentatively.

"Same," he said sadly. Tin-Tin put her arm around him.

"He'll get through it, Scott. If anybody can, it's Jeff Tracy!"

Scott nodded half-heartedly.

Tin-Tin nudged him. "Come on! Let's go and see Alan."

* * *

Alan was in the intensive care unit, at the opposite end to Jeff. As he walked past, Scott peered in at his father. He was surrounded by staff and machines, in a private room. Scott hung his head. Tin-Tin beat him to Alan's bed, on the ward, with curtains sectioning him off from the patients either side of him.

"Hey, kiddo!" said Scott cheerfully, and patted Alan's ankle.  
Alan opened his eyes. "Hello!" he croaked. He smiled lovingly at Tin-Tin, who returned it.

"How do you feel?" asked Scott.

"Pretty good, actually. A little tired, maybe."

"Hey, great!"

Alan noticed that Scott's enthusiasm was a façade. "How's Virg?"  
"He's alright, still in recovery."

"Kyrano?"  
"He's absolutely fine, Alan," said Tin-Tin.

"Dad?" asked Alan, his voice now very quiet, weakened with the effort of talking.

Scott chuckled. "He's going to be okay. You just get yourself better, kiddo!"

"I'm not a child, Scott."  
"No. You're not." Scott sighed. "He could be okay. We just have to hope for that, Alan."

Alan nodded, and his head lulled to one side to look at Tin-Tin.

"Get some rest, Alan," she said.

* * *

Scott walked to the other end of the ward, and approached Dr. Liu, who was standing at the desk in the middle of the entrance hall.  
"Dr. Liu?"

"Mr. Tracy. Can I help you?"  
"I was wondering if there had been any change with my father?"  
"I am afraid not, Mr. Tracy. His condition is unchanged."

"And my brother, Alan?"

"Alan Tracy?"  
"Yes, the blonde kid in the second from last bed on the right."

"Let me find out for you."  
Dr. Liu went into Jeff's room, and Scott could see him speaking with another doctor through the thin strips of light left by the blinds. Presently, he came out.  
"He's going to be fine, Mr. Tracy. He will recover well, we just need to keep him here because he is going to require some advanced care for a while, and then he can go home."

"Excellent, thank you, Doctor."

"Pleasure!" said the doctor, and departed.

* * *

Brains was fiddling with his computer; examining a phial of blood he had taken from John, and comparing to the results to those he had taken at hourly intervals for the last five hours.

"All these nanobots are coded, Gordon."  
"Okay," said Gordon, and watched as Brains injected another load of the coded nanobots into the port in John's hand.

"So what's that for?" said Gordon.

"Just making sure, Gordon." Brains wiped his brow with his sleeve.

Gordon turned around and looked out of the tiny window. It was frosted, and he could not see very much. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. His musings were interrupted by the now familiar sound of the alarm from the heart monitor.

"VF!" cried Brains, and ran into the sickroom, returning with the defibrillator.

"Ah, crap! Not again!" said Gordon, and started to bag his brother. Brains took the paddles off the top of the defibrillator, in anticipation. His fears were soon realised.

"Asystole!" he said, and placed both paddles in one hand so that he could thump on John's chest. After three times there was no effect, so he took a paddle in each hand and charged the machine.

"Clear."  
Gordon held off and John's body jolted. He wept quietly. "John, this is getting really old. Quit playing around!" he said.

"Asystole!" said Brains again, and shocked John again.

"Come on, John!" cried Gordon, and bagged his brother once more.

"Asystole!"

Brains shocked him again. There was no effect.

"Keep going, Gordon!" said Brains, and ran back into the sickroom. He was gone about 10 seconds, and returned with a loaded syringe.  
"Lidocaine!" said Brains, responding to Gordon's worried look.  
"Charging." Said the machine, and Gordon stood clear while John was shocked.

"Asystole!"

"Charging."  
"John, it wasn't Virgil who broke your telescope in 2048! It was me! I did it because you too my speak 'n' spell to pieces! I did it to get back at you!"

"Sinus tachycardia!" said Brains, and let go of the paddles, causing them to bounce around on their coiled cords. Brains checked the respiration monitor, and hooked John back up to the oxygen support machine.

"What now?" asked Gordon.

"Now that there is no danger from the nanobots, we can call the doctor!" stammered Brains.

"Shouldn't we take him to the hospital?"  
"No. He's too unstable to move."

Gordon was out of the door immediately. "I'm on it!" he said.

"Hopefully he'll get here before this happens again!" said Brains to himself.


	18. Hanging by a Thread

Chapter 18

Virgil groaned and rolled onto his side, and opened his eyes to find the smiling face of his older brother about 6 inches from his face.  
"Agh!" said Virgil.

"Sorry!" said Scott. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Floaty!" said Virgil with slurred speech, and giggled.

"That'll be the painkillers," said Scott.

A doctor came over to the foot of the bed.

"Mr. Tracy! Good to see you awake! How do you feel?"

"Alright," said Virgil, and licked his dry lips.

"We put a metal plate in your leg. It should be fine. We did some muscle reconstruction on your arm, and that will heal well too. It'd be a different story if you weren't in such great shape, but you shouldn't be in here more than four or five days. We'll get you some physiotherapy, and some aftercare, and you'll be right!" The doctor was Australian. He had a little koala toy holding an Australian flag peeping out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. It made Virgil giggle even more. "For now, Mr. Tracy, get some sleep!" said the doctor.

"Thank you, doctor," said Virgil. The doctor touched his head in a kind of half-salute, and left.

"Hey, Scott, can you pass me some water?" asked Virgil.

Scott poured him a glass from the jug on the bedside table, and passed it to him. Virgil drank all of it and gave a satisfied gasp.

"How's Dad?" he asked.

"Same," said Scott. "Look, are you going to be okay?"

"Sure. How are Alan and Kyrano?"

"They'll both be good soon."

"Go on, Scott. I could use the rest anyway."

"Okay, kid." Scott tapped Virgil's good leg, and headed back to intensive care to see his father.

* * *

"Dr. Featherstone is on his way, Brains. He's bringing his team."  
"Okay, Gordon," said Brains.  
"I'll start operation cover-up, Brains."  
"Good idea!" stammered Brains. He recorded John's observations while Gordon ran out into the corridor.

* * *

Gordon changed the pictures in the Tracy lounge to those of the boys in their casual clothes. He was moved for a moment by the picture of John. He touched it with his fingertips, and proceeded to the lab. The lab was almost destroyed, with shards of metal and broken glass everywhere. There was no way he was going to clear this up alone. He went up to the end of the corridor to where it met the Thunderbird 1 hangar. He opened a panel in the floor and took hold of the lever that would manually bring down the blast door. With an almighty tug he pulled it up, and the door descended. This quite effectively blocked the view of the hangar from the lab corridor. He went to the hallway between the Thunderbird 1 hangar and the rest of the main house, and pulled that door down also, even though there was no damage to the regular doors in this section. The blast doors looked rather like bulkheads, and so there would be no question as to what lay beyond them. Next, he went into the Thunderbird 2 hangar and brought down the wall that separated Thunderbird 2 and all of it's equipment from Ladybird and the other planes in the regular hangar.

"Operation complete!" said Gordon, and dusted off his hands. He went to sit under one of the palm trees and waited for the doctor to arrive.

* * *

He did not have to wait long. A red medical helijet approached and landed on the strip next to the main house. A five people climbed out of it, and Gordon walked towards them. A sixth person, the pilot, came out too. All of the crew were carrying large bags, and Gordon offered to take some. He led the way into the main house, and the sickroom.

When he got there, Brains was alternately bagging John and pounding his chest. Gordon dropped the bags.

"He arrested again!" said Brains, breathlessly.

The medical staff strode in with an air of authority. One of the people wearing a jacket labelled 'Doctor' stood next to Brains, and at an appropriate moment in the sequence took over from him. The rest surrounded John, and some worked on him while others unpacked equipment. Their neon jackets reflected the lights and made it difficult to see between them. Brains was pushed to the back, and sidled his way around the team to stand next to Gordon in the doorway to the sickroom.

"Oh no!" said Gordon, and Brains touched his arm. Gordon really appreciated the gesture; he and Brains were close friends, and Brains wasn't the touchy-feely type. It was heart felt.  
Gordon focussed all his concentration on John. He heard various cries of "Asystole", "VF", "V tach" and others. Gordon was not listening, he was just willing John to life with all of his mental energy until he felt the veins popping out of his head. He lost track of time until the doctor came out.

"Is he okay?" asked Gordon, frantically.

"We have managed to restart his heart. I understand you have equipment here; CT, x-ray, that sort of thing?"

"Yes we do!" said Gordon. He moved aside some equipment in the sickroom, and opened the door to the instrument room. "In here! And you can go through the anaesthetic room in the operating theatre to get in as well," said Gordon.

"You are remarkably well equipped; I've seen city hospitals with less!" said the doctor.

"We're a remote island, Doctor," said Brains. "We can't always rely on help being available," he stammered.

"Quite," said the doctor. "We need to run some tests on John. Why don't you get a cup of coffee or something? We'll let you know when we have something to tell you."  
"Okay," said Gordon. But as soon as the doctor left, he frowned. "Ah, this is worse than waiting at the damn hospital!" he said. He and Brains headed for the kitchen to get some coffee.

* * *

Scott sat next to his father's bed, looking at his face. He heard the door swing open behind him but paid it no attention.

"Mr. Tracy?" said a familiar voice; Dr. Liu.  
"My name is Scott," he said. "Mr. Tracy is my father's name."

"As you wish, Scott," said Dr. Liu.

"How is my father?" asked Scott.

"He's deteriorating, I'm afraid. I think it's looking very possible that your father has very serious brain damage. He's very sick, Scott."

"I can see that!" snapped Scott. "I'm sorry."

"Don't even worry about it, mate."

"Are you telling me he's going to die?"  
"No, but I'm telling you to be ready for the worst."  
"Thank you, doctor," said Scott, and turned to shake his hand. He appreciated plain speaking at times such as this.


	19. A Breakthrough

Chapter 19

"Mr. Tracy?" asked the doctor.

"Gordon," he replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."  
"Leonard. Michael Leonard."  
"Pleased to meet you," said Gordon, acerbically.

"I'm sorry, but with the drama earlier, there wasn't really time for introductions."  
Gordon's mood softened. "Yeah. Thanks."

"We've done all the tests we can think of on John."  
"And?"

"I'm afraid his brain was too badly damaged."  
"What do you mean?"

Brains put his hand on Gordon's shoulder.  
"I mean that John will never wake up."  
Gordon breathed in sharply. "But he's not dead?"  
"No, but the machines are keeping him alive. His heart could stop again at any time."  
"Oh God!" sobbed Gordon. "So what do we do?"  
"We can call a special vehicle from the mainland to take him to the hospital."  
"So let's do it!" Gordon clapped his hands.

"He will be totally dependent on the machines. He will never recover and probably never come home, Gordon. If he does it will be in the same state he left in."

"What else?"

"We can disconnect him from the ventilator, and let him go peacefully."  
"What?"

"Without the oxygen support machine, he will stop breathing."  
"Won't that be like suffocating?" said Gordon, anxiously.  
"He won't feel a thing."  
Gordon panted hard for a few minutes. "What will happen if we leave him connected to the machines, and keep him here?" he asked.

"Like I said, his heart could stop at any time. But we can't stay here forever to take care of him."  
"We'll pay for whomever from wherever."  
The doctor put his hand on Gordon's shoulder. "You don't understand, Mr. Tracy-"  
"Gordon!"

"Gordon. It's hopeless. I'm sorry to be blunt, but that's the way it is."

Gordon sank into a chair with his hands clasped together, and cried inconsolably. Brains perched on the arm of the chair and put his arm around Gordon.

"What do you think we should do, Dr. Leonard?"

"I think it would be fairest to let John go."

Brains turned back to Gordon. "Maybe it would be best if we-" he stammered, but Gordon interrupted him.  
"No! No! No! It's not what he would want. It's not what Dad would want. John would want to keep going until the end. You know it, Brains!"

"I understand," said the doctor. "But there's nothing more we can do here."

"Then get out!" screamed Gordon. "Go on, go!" He then hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head.  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Leonard," stammered Brains.

"Don't worry, Mr-"  
"Hackenbacker."  
"He's grieving. I understand. But we really have to be going."  
"Sure, Doctor."

Brains helped the medical crew pack up, and they left, with Gordon still crying in his chair.

* * *

Scott paced up and down in his father's private room. It was stuffy, and the air smelt of bleach. He had been sitting watching and talking to his father for eight hours. He really needed a cigarette. He opened the case in his pocket, and found it empty.  
"Damn it!" he said, and threw the case to the floor. He was annoyed; where would he get cigarettes at three o'clock in the morning in a hospital? He sighed. It was painful lounging in a chair waiting for his father to die. He kicked at the wall, feeling angry, distraught and scared all at the same time. Without his father, there would be no more International Rescue. Scott was sure that he could not step up to the plate and take over. Maybe one of the others would. But Thunderbird 5 was wrecked, Virgil and Alan seriously injured, and himself with a broken arm. He was so physically and emotionally drained that he felt like he was melting whenever he stood up. Scott only normally needed four hours of sleep a night, but he had now been awake for almost three days. Scott cried and held his father's hand.

"I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry I couldn't save you!" He sobbed. "But you can go now, Dad. We'll be okay. We're all fine."

A nurse came in, opening the door with her back, and Scott hastily dried his eyes. She recorded some notes on Jeff's chart, and turned to leave. But she caught sight of Scott's face.

"Are you alright, Mr. Tracy?" she said, kindly.

"Yeah. Just a little tired," he replied.

She smiled. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I don't want to leave in case he- you know –while I'm gone."

She nodded understanding. "I'll get you a cot. You can sleep in here."  
"What if something happens?"  
"I'll wake you. I promise."  
"Thank you!" said Scott.

The nurse did as she had promised, and Scott fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

"_Jeff? Jeff?"_

"_Who's there?"_

"_You know who it is."  
"It can't be."_

"_It is."  
"You're dead!"_

"_So will you be, if you're not careful."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Look."  
"Is that me?"_

"_Yes."  
"Is that Scott?"  
"Yes."  
"What happened?"  
"You were hurt trying to save your family, your friends and your dreams."  
"Really?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh, yes, I think I remember now. I did it. But at a price."  
"John is going to be fine."  
"He is?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Thank God."  
"Indeed."_

"_Wow. This sure is a strange feeling!"  
"I know."  
"Where am I?"_

"_You're right there."  
"I'm not here?"  
"Not yet."  
"How do I get here?"  
"You can't come here."  
"Why not?"  
"They need you."  
"They'll be okay without me."  
"You have to go back?"  
"Why can't I stay here with you?"  
"You can't. You have to go back. They need you."  
"But I need you!"_

"_All in good time, Jeff."  
"But I want to stay!"  
"You can't. They need you."  
"The boys will be okay!"  
"Not just the boys. Everyone needs you Jeff."  
"Everyone?"  
"Everyone. And your sons need you too."_

"_I have to go back?"  
"Yes."_

"_Now?"_

"_Yes."  
"Can't I stay a while?"_

"_No."  
"I'll go back."_

"_I miss you."  
"I know. Goodbye Jeff."  
"Goodbye."

* * *

_

Scott was abruptly awakened by the sound of one of the machines making an unkind siren sound. Before he could even get up, the room filled with people, chattering away and hoarding around his father. He fought his way to the head of the bed to find his father's eyes open, and blinking.  
"Oh shit! Dad! Shit! Aaah! Haha!" Scott punched the air. Oblivious to the people working all around him.

"I tell you it's a miracle!"  
"Two hours ago he was totally unresponsive."  
"Yeah, not even a gag reflex!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I've never seen anything like this before."  
"I have, but only once, and they guy wasn't this bright!"

"Hang on, Mr. Tracy, we're going to remove your tube."

Jeff spluttered as they did so, and Scott bent down to his face.  
"Welcome back, Dad!" he said, and kissed his father. "What, are you trying to tell me something?" He leaned in closer.

"Language!" whispered Jeff.  
"Yes Sir!" said Scott.

* * *

Gordon sat on the end of John's bed, looking at his older brother. He spoke to him as if he were talking back. But it was very much a one-way conversation, and Brains stood in the doorway and shook his head.  
"Hey, John, why don't I sing you a song? No, Gordon, you can't sing worth a dime! Well I'm going to! When Johnny comes marching home again, hurrah, hurrah, we'll give him a hearty welcome then, hurrah, hurrah, the men will cheer the boys will shout, the ladies they will all turn out et cetera. Hey, shut up, Gordon. No, John, what's the matter? Don't you like ladies? I'll get the boys to turn out if you like. Hey that's real funny, Gordon."

Brains sighed and went to carry on making his repairs.

* * *

Two days later, Virgil and Scott were sitting next to their father's bed. Virgil was in his wheelchair. Jeff was now sitting up and talking, if rather slowly.

"Hey, Pop!" said Virgil. "How are you today? Lousy food, huh?"

"Not a patch on Kyrano's!" said Jeff, slurring a little.

"At least they feed you. I've been living on corn dogs and sandwiches for the last three days."  
"I'll slip you some of my 'brown splat a la gravy' if you like. I don't want it."  
"Suddenly the corn dogs are really appealing."

Jeff smiled and then looked down at his knees.

"How's John?" he said.

Virgil looked at Scott, and Scott closed his eyes. "Hey, Dad!" said Virgil. "They said I can go home soon! I have to get the hang of the crutches first, but then I can go. I told them I could take my physio at home."  
"Yeah, and Kyrano can go home tomorrow, too," said Scott.

"What about Alan?" said Jeff.

"He could go home, but he'd need to stay in the sickroom for a while. He's still very weak."  
"And John?"  
"What about you, Father? Have they said you can go home yet?"  
"I want to go too."

"You need to stay here, father. You're sick."

Jeff looked grave. "I've been hit in the head, Scott. I am not an imbecile. The last time I checked, I was in charge around here, and I want to go home."  
"But-" started Virgil, but Scott stopped him. He sighed; he thought that he had been distracting Jeff from John, but he had just been annoying him.

"I'll speak to the doctor, Dad."  
"Thank you, Scott."

* * *

"Dr. Liu, may I speak with you?" asked Scott.

"Of course, Mr. Tracy."

"My father want's to discharge himself."  
"But-"

"Look, I'm not saying I think it's a good idea, I'm just asking what would happen if we took him home."  
"He needs proper medical care to recover."  
"We can provide it at home."  
"You can?"  
"Yes."  
"But why does he want to go?"  
"He hates hospitals. He watched my mother die in one."

"I'm sorry."  
"Yeah. And there's another reason."  
"What."  
"My younger brother, John, is at home. He's dying, it's just a matter of time. My father knows that, and wants to be with him."

"I'm sorry, what-"  
"He was seriously injured in the raid, but was too unstable to move. He's brain dead. We're just waiting for him to, you know."  
"I see."  
"Would my father be in danger if we moved him?"  
"All his results are fantastic for a man who just came out of a coma. If you really can give him the right care at home, and you call for help at the first sign of trouble, then I guess if he really needs to, he can go."  
"Thank you, doctor."  
"That's alright Mr. Tracy. You know, I think it is important that he sees your brother. Not being there when he passes away could really hamper his recovery."  
"I think so too."

* * *

"Gordon! Your family is coming home! Isn't that wonderful?" stammered Brains.

"I guess," replied Gordon, surly.

"Come on, Gordon, you've been sitting in here for days."  
"I want to sit here!" snapped Gordon.  
Brains felt that he had to take Gordon's mind off the situation. "Come on, Gordon, there's work to do."

"What if something happens to John?"

Brains held up a small device attached to his belt. "This will keep us apprised of his condition. Don't worry, Gordon."

Gordon scowled, but looked into Brains' affectionate eyes, and softened his look. He followed Brains out of the sickroom to help.

* * *

Jeff, Virgil, Alan and Kyrano were all able to sit in regular seats for the return journey to Tracy Island. Virgil managed to alight on crutches, Kyrano walked off, and Jeff had to use a wheelchair, much to his chagrin.

"Mother, I can do this myself!" he complained, when Grandma tried to help him.  
"Oh, Jeffrey, don't be such a big baby!" she admonished.

Scott snickered.  
"I heard that!" said Jeff.

* * *

Gordon and Brains had done a good job clearing up the house. All the infiltrator parts had been sealed in a great glass drum in the lab. The doors were repaired, and the place looked as clean and serene as it always had. Virgil was allowed to get up and about, and was soon painting and piano playing, if only with one hand to start with. Kyrano was almost immediately cooking, and making endless cups of coffee, despite warnings from everyone to take it easy. Tin-Tin helped Brains and Gordon to repair the launch machinery for Thunderbird 1, Alan recovered quietly in the sickroom.

* * *

John's condition remained unchanged. Jeff kept a constant bedside vigil, and Grandma and Scott tried to shake him out of it.

"Dad, why don't you get some rest. The doctor said to take it easy."

"John could wake up at any time, and I want to be here."  
"He's not going to wake up, Father," said Scott.

"Yes, he is. I know he is.," said Jeff, defiantly.

"But the doctor said-" began Scott.

"I know better!" snapped Jeff.

"Jeffrey, why don't you come into the kitchen for a while. I'll make you some lunch," said Grandma, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not hungry, Mother."

"Come on, Dad. You need to take car of yourself. John doesn't even know you're here!" said Scott.

Jeff threw him a cold look. "I shot him, Scott. I shot my own son!" Tears poured from Jeff's eyes. "I sent him up to Thunderbird 5. I let him get those things in him. I brought him back down here, and then I shot him! Now if I want to sit here and wait for him to wake up, who the hell are you to tell me different!" By the time he had finished, Jeff was shouting. Scott had never seen him behave like this.

"But he isn't going to wake up, Father!"

"I know different, Scott. I know he'll wake up."  
"How do you know?"  
"I just know."


	20. Delusional

Chapter 20

Jeff Tracy stroked his thick, grey beard. He intertwined his thin fingers behind his unkempt hair, and stretched in his chair.

Grandma came into the sickroom with a tray. "Jeff?"  
Jeff did not answer.  
"I've brought you some dinner."  
"I'm not hungry!" snapped Jeff.

"Come on, Jeff. Why don't you come into the dining room?"  
"Mother, we've been over this a thousand times. I can't leave him. What if he wakes up while I'm gone?"  
Grandma sighed. She had been hard pressed to get Jeff to even shower or change his clothes. It was a nightmare trying to get him to eat. "Jeff, I-"  
"Look, I've made up my mind!" He stood up, and Grandma closed her eyes briefly, as the loose hang of his clothes showed how painfully thin he had become. His beard disguised the thin, sallow face beneath it, but his shirt hung from him, and his trousers were touching the floor.  
"Jeff, it's been six months. Maybe it's time to-"  
"Time to what?" growled Jeff.

"Nothing," said Grandma, forlornly. She went across the room as if to leave the tray, but thought better of it, and took it back to the kitchen.

* * *

Scott was playing tennis with Virgil when Grandma came out to see them.

"Hi, Grandma!" Scott's tone changed when he saw how worried his grandmother looked. "Hey, what's wrong?"  
"We need to do something about your father, Scott."  
"What?"  
"He's still pining for John, waiting for him to wake up after all this time. Could you talk to him?"

"I've talked to him, Grandma. You know he doesn't listen."  
"Scott, I'm worried that if we don't break him out of this, we'll end up losing him too."  
Scott hung his head.  
"And Scott, with Thunderbird 5 operational again, International Rescue is ready to launch. We need to think about how we're going to run things around here without John."  
"And without Dad?" said Scott, defiantly.

"I'm sure your father will want to get on with life, but first we have to help him shake this awful depression," said Grandma.

"The doctor gave him some meds!" said Virgil.

"Yeah," said Scott. "But he didn't take them."

"Why not?" asked Virgil.

"I don't know. You know how stubborn he can be. He just mumbled something about it getting in his way," said Scott.

"You have to do something, Scott!" said Grandma.

"Alright," said Scott. He spoke into his watch. "Family meeting. Lounge, in 10."

Virgil threw down his racket and followed Grandma and Scott to the house.

* * *

"What's this about then, Scott?" asked Alan, accompanied by Gordon. Alan was still using a walking stick. Although he could manage without it, he still tired easily and needed a little support. He laid it on the floor when he sat down.

"We need to do something about Dad," said Scott.

"Tell me about it!" said Alan. He hardly ever comes out of there!" said Gordon,

"I know, and Grandma particularly is very worried about his health, physical and mental."  
Grandma sniffed. "He has only just got over a serious injury himself, and there he is risking his health," she sobbed.

"What can we do, Scott? He's talking to John, reading him stories, singing to him. What's wrong with that? It might help John get better!" said Gordon.

"Are you on the same planet as Dad? John isn't going to wake up. He's brain dead, alright!" Scott completely blew his top.

Gordon clenched his fists. "What's the matter with you? He's your brother, for God's sake. You can't write him off like that!"

"I'm sorry, Gordon. I'm writing him off. But someone who is brain dead can't wake up."  
"Yeah," said Virgil. "It's just the machines keeping him alive."

"Well, when me and Brains were in there alone, his heart kept stopping. Now it doesn't! So he's getting better!" said Gordon.

"No, he isn't. The doctors just got him more stable."

"How could they do that?" asked Gordon, growing angry.

"Because they have considerably more skill than you do!" said Scott.

"Hey, we did our best!"

"Well it wasn't good enough, was it? Stop dreaming, Gordon, be a man and face it."

"Look, there's nothing we can do. Dad's going to stay in there until John finally goes."  
"Maybe we should switch off the machines," said Scott.

"Dad would never allow it!" said Gordon.

"Would he have to know?" asked Scott.

"Of course he would have to now, you idiot! What, are you going to go in there, march past him and do it?"

"Don't call me an idiot, you bastard!"

"Say that to my face, you asshole!" said Gordon, and strode over to him.

Virgil jumped in between them. "What the hell is going on here? Are you actually fighting while Dad really needs us? If he was himself he'd go nuts! Break it up, you guys!"

Scott and Gordon both looked sheepish. They smiled nervously at each other, and then embraced.

"I'm sorry, man!" said Scott.

"I'm sorry too. I'm just finding it hard to let him go, I mean, he's my brother."  
"He's our brother too, Gordy, " said Virgil and Alan, almost in unison.

"And mine," said Scott. "We all feel the same way, Gordon. But we have to do something!"  
"Yeah, I know." Gordon sniffed.

"Look, I'll have one last go at convincing Dad. But then we're going to have to talk about this again."

The brothers eyed each other with grief and responsibility.

* * *

"Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Scott, putting his head around the door of the sickroom.

"What?"  
"How are you?"  
"I'm fine!" snapped Jeff. "Now what do you want? Going to try and make me take those damn pills, I suppose!"

"I would like you to take them, but I won't make you."  
"Damn right, you won't!"

"Dad, we need to talk about John."  
"Look, how many times do I have to tell you this? He'll wake up! I am not entertaining any other outcomes."  
"But he's brain dead."  
"I know he'll wake up!"

"How?"  
"I just know."  
"You're going to have to be clearer than that. If there is genuinely something we can do to help John, you have to let us know. So how can he wake up, even though he's brain dead?"  
"Someone told me he would."  
"Dad, we've had a whole bunch of doctors in here giving you second, and never ending opinions. They all said the same thing. He's brain dead, and he's not going to wake up!"  
"Why are you talking like that about your brother?"  
"It's got nothing to do with how I feel, Dad, I'm just facing the facts. You need to do the same," said Scott, caringly.

"The person who told me wasn't a doctor."  
"Who was it?"

"It was your mother."

"Okay." Scott closed his eyes and bowed his head.

* * *

Scott went back to report to the family in the lounge. 

"He's delusional."


	21. Reunions and Farewells

Chapter 21

"Dad, this is Dr. Bennett. He has come to talk to you," said Scott, and the doctor offered Jeff his hand. Jeff did not take it.

"Psychiatrist?" he asked.

"Yes, I've come t-"  
"Thought so. Thanks, Scott."

The doctor looked at Scott, and Scott made his eyes wide, and then narrow. "Why don't I get you some coffee?" he asked, and left the room without waiting for an answer.

"Mr. Tracy?"

No answer.

"Mr. Tracy?"  
"What?"  
"I'm here to help you."

"I don't want your damn help! Can you help my son?"  
"I'm afraid not."  
"Then goodbye!"

"You need help, Mr. Tracy. You're not yourself."  
"How the hell would you know? Have we met?"  
"No."  
"Then goodbye!"

* * *

"Mr. Tracy?"  
"Yes?" replied Scott.

"Your father won't take his medicine, and he won't talk to me."  
"So you can't help him?"  
"The only way I could is if we were to commit him."  
Scott looked around anxiously at his brothers for support.  
"Oh, no," said Gordon. "No thanks."  
"Wait a minute, Gordon. Would that help him, Doctor?"

"I won't know until I try, Mr. Tracy. But I see no other course. Your father isn't eating; isn't taking care of himself, and is deeply, deeply depressed. This is hardly surprising given the circumstances, but I really feel he needs proper help," said Dr. Bennett.

Knowing he had already lost Gordon's support, Scott looked at Virgil.

"Not me, Scott. I won't sanction this!" he said, waving his hands.

"Nor me," said Alan, quietly.

"So I'm in this alone?" said Scott. "Thanks a lot, guys! Dr. Bennett, I'm afraid we'll have to think about it."

"Don't think about it for too long, Mr. Tracy, or you may be too late."  
"Thanks, Dr. Bennett. Gordon will see you out."

* * *

"_John?"_

"_Yes?"  
"It's me."  
"Who?"  
"You know who it is."  
"Is it really-"  
"Yes."  
"Where am I?"  
"The world between."  
"Between?"  
"Between being and unbeing,__life and death."  
"How did I get here?"  
"You died."  
"I remember!"  
"You have to go back."  
"I tried. I couldn't find my way. I thought I was stuck here."  
"You were. But now you can go back, if you can find your way."  
"Can't I stay awhile with you?"  
"No, John. You have more important things to do."  
"Like what?"  
"Everything you ever dreamed of. One day you will come here for the last time, and you will never be able to go back. Seize the opportunity."  
"I'm trying! I can't get back!"_

"_Relax. I'll help you."  
"Can't you come with me?"  
"No, John."  
"I miss you."  
"I miss you all, too."_

"_I can't get through."  
"I'll push you."  
"You're getting further away!"_

"_I love you, John."

* * *

_

"I love you, John." Jeff planted a kiss on his son's cheek. He sank back into his chair, and saw his son's open eyes. He turned to look out of the window. He had seen John open his eyes every day for the last six months. It was his imagination. He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and shuffled in his chair to snap himself out of it. When he turned back, John's eyes were still open. He couldn't believe it, and stared in silence for several minutes. He deemed it a figment of his mind, but for some reason, he leaned over and gently brushed his finger over John's eyelid. John's face twitched and he blinked.  
Jeff recoiled in surprise and elation. He put his hands either side of John's face and kissed him. Then he ran like a wild animal out of the room.

* * *

"Scott! Scott! Virgil! Galan! Scordon!" he cried, cantering into the lounge, and then immediately running out again. One more time, he ran in and then out.

"What the hell?" said Scott. "Has he gone completely tonto?" He followed Jeff back to the sickroom.  
"Good God!" exclaimed Scott. "John!" He ran over and bashed the panic bar with his fist. In less than a minute, this brought the rest of the household. There was a great deal of hugging, talking and joy in the house. Although Jeff was still thin, and his complexion pale and yellow, he was a changed man.

* * *

Brains spent a great deal of time checking John over, and found that he was very weak, and had to keep his tube for the moment. This mean that John could not talk. He was too weak to raise his arms to write so he had to answer with a 'one blink yes, two blinks no' system of communication. He also seemed vague and unable to remember some of the things that had happened to him. The family did not press him to answer their questions but were overjoyed that he was back with them, against all the odds. Brains could not imagine how John had been healed. The others advised him to simply drop the issue, and not question why. But Brains was determined to get to the bottom of it. It might help to save somebody else's life. He worked around the clock on John's blood and tissue samples.

* * *

After two days, it had come to nothing. He was still nursing John, and was delighted with his improvements. He thought that John might be rebuilding his muscle tone a little quicker than he might have expected, and an idea came to him. "I wonder!" he thought to himself.

He went into his lab, and looked through the newly rebuilt kit cupboards for the SEM phial, and filled it with a sample from John's blood. He set up the equipment, and was almost disappointed to find nothing wrong. He kicked at the cupboard door, and it fell open. It's contents spilled, including the hand held device. A flash of inspiration came to him, and he ran upstairs to the instrument room. He transferred all the data from the hand held device to the body scanner computer, and began reprogramming it.

* * *

"Mr. Tracy? I would like to do a body scan on John," stammered Brains. "  
"Alright, Brains," said Jeff. "We'll give you a hand." He and Scott stood up.

Brains smiled at Jeff. He was clean shaven, well groomed and dressed. Apart from needing to put on a little weight, Jeff Tracy was back.  
Jeff, Scott and Brains loaded John into the body scanner, which was no small task given that John was still hooked up to kit and monitors, and Brains started the scan. After some minutes examining the data, he stepped back from the machine.  
"Well, I'll be!" he stammered.

"What is it, Brains?"

"Nanobots!" cried Brains.

"You have got to be kidding!" said Scott, seriously.


	22. Mom

Chapter 23

"I'm not kidding, Scott."

"Oh, God!" said Scott. "So we're back to square one again?"  
"No, Scott. There are very few in his system," stammered Brains.

"What does that mean?" asked Jeff.

"Well, Mr. Tracy, it certainly explains John's condition. A handful of nanobots would take a very long time indeed to regenerate his tissues."

"I thought the coded ones you gave him were supposed to destroy them!" said Scott.

"They did destroy the ones that they could. These must be second generation, perhaps made from one of our alloys," Brains stuttered.

"What do we do now?" asked Jeff.

"We need to get them out of him. There are so few that I would not be able to pinpoint their locations long enough to remove them surgically, and the coded nanobots are not going to work."  
"There must be something you can do!" said Scott, impatiently.

"I'm working on it, Scott, but-"

"What is it, John?" asked Jeff. He had noticed that John was shaking his head, frustrated.

John was unable to answer because he could not speak.  
"He's trying to say something!" said Scott.

"Obviously a limitation of the yes/no blinking method of communication," said Jeff.

"I have an idea, Mr. Tracy!" said Brains, and disappeared. He returned presently with a large piece of white paper with the alphabet arranged on the bottom like a QWERTY keyboard, and some simple words and phrases at the top.

"John, I'm going to point to the middle of the board. If you want the top section, roll your eyes up, and if you want the bottom section, roll your eyes down. Then I will move my finer across the board, and when I get to the letter or phrase you want, you blink, and I'll read it out," stammered Brains. It took him quite some time to get all of his words out. "Do you understand, John?"

John rolled his eyes up, and then blinked when Brains' finger was touching the 'yes' field.

"Whoa, you're a quick study!" said Scott.

"Thanks," said Brains, John having directed him to.

"What do you want to say, John?" asked Jeff, and John began. At first, they simply waited for him to spell a word, and remembered it, but John was using some sophisticated language, so Jeff got pen and paper and began writing it down.

"E-L-E-C-T-R-I-C field given off by nanobots. Combine capillary electrophoresis with dialysis. Filter by charge."

"That's ingenious, John!" said Brains.

"What did he say?" asked Scott.  
"He said 'electric field'-"  
"I know what he said, Brains. What did it mean?" asked Scott.

"Well, if I combine a charge selective electrophoresis apparatus with a dialysis machine, I will be able to filter John's blood to remove them," stammered Brains.

"Well that made a lot more sense," sighed Scott.

"Can you do it, Brains?" asked Jeff.

"I'll need a dialysis machine. We already have electrophoresis equipment."  
"I'll get one shipped right away, Brains," said Jeff.

"Well done, John!" said Scott.

John started directing Brains to speak for him again.

"Not just a hat rack, my friend."

* * *

For a large and undisclosed sum, Jeff managed to have a dialysis machine shipped over the next afternoon. Brains had been up the entire night tinkering with the machinery and computer parts he had brought up to the sickroom from his lab. The boys had been learning to use the letterboard, and were enjoying their first conversations with John for over six months.

"We fixed up your satellite pretty good!" said Virgil.

"Is my observatory okay?" signed John.

"So so," said Virgil, and then when he saw the horrified look on John's face, "Hey, man, I'm kidding. It's great. You should be back eating freeze dried food, peeing into a hole in the wall and reading the same cheesy novels over and over in no time!"  
"Can't wait," signed John, and smiled as much as his tube would let him.

* * *

Brain's eventually came away from his apparatus and announced it ready to use. He put two needles into John's arm to remove and return the blood, and started the machine.

John signed, "Oh God is that my blood A-A-A-A." He was watching the large plastic tube fill with blood from his arm and was looking very pale.  
"Can we cover that up?" asked Jeff. Virgil got a light sheet and put it over John's arm to the point where the tube came off the side of his bed.

"Thank you!" signed John. "How long do I have to be like this?"  
"Well, if I was removing anything else from your blood it would take about 10 hours," stammered Brains.

"Gee, fantastic," signed John.

"Maybe you should get some sleep, Son," sad Jeff.

"Oh yes you try and sleep with your blood being controlled by a machine," signed John.

Jeff, Alan and Scott left, leaving only Virgil and Gordon with John. They stayed up all night talking to John with the new system, which was very effective.

* * *

"Good news, Mr. Tracy!" said Brains. "The treatment worked! I put John in the body scanner again, and there were no nanobots!"  
"You're sure this time?" asked Jeff with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy," stammered Brains.

"So he's going to be okay?" asked Scott. "He's not going to go on the rampage again?"  
"No, Scott."

"Hallelujah!"

"The only drawback is that John's recovery will be slower without them," stammered Brains.  
"Small price to pay, if you ask me!" said Scott.

* * *

"What are we going to do about the further nanobots threat, Brains?" asked Jeff.  
"I have compiled a complete report, Mr. Tracy, and I'm going to hand it anonymously to the World Defence Force."  
"Good idea, Brains."

"And the new shielding on Thunderbird 5 ought to protect it from their energy weapons."

"What else?"  
"Further than that, I don't know. I guess we just have to keep a close watch on the symptoms. I think they remain a threat."

"Sure, Brains. And at least we know that there is a way to get rid of them.

* * *

Three months later, and International Rescue was back in action. Alan and Virgil had been taking turns in manning Thunderbird 5, but the callouts had been few, and not too severe. John was walking in the garden, with a stick in one hand, and his arm around his father's shoulders. He was recovering very well, and hoped to return to active duty in another few months.  
"Wow, you never gave up on me, Dad?" said John, hoarsely. The tube had irritated his throat, and it was taking some time for him to get his voice back.

"No, son. I knew you'd be okay."  
"Dad, I know it's a weird thing to ask, but-" John squealed in pain as he faltered and almost fell. Jeff caught him around the waist.

"Here we go, John!" Jeff led him to the bench. "What were you saying?"  
"You said you knew I'd be alright. How?"  
"I just knew, in my heart."  
"Really? Because I had this really weird sort of conversation in my head."  
Jeff's ears pricked up, and he leaned closer to John. "With who?"  
"With Mom!" John's lip trembled, and Jeff hugged him tightly. "Is that weird?"  
"No, Son. I spoke to her too!" He looked up at the sky. "I told you she'd watch over you, didn't I?"  
"Yes. Thanks, Dad."


End file.
